Little Gem
by Infinite Ravens
Summary: "Whether you are the mass murderer bent on world domination and destruction or the revolutionary fighting for a just cause, it doesn't matter. I am a boy you can't kill and you are a man I can't kill, I was destined for a wand you couldn't fight and you were destined for a wand I can't fight. I believe we're meant to be friends - fated even." Dark!Ravenclaw!Harry/Lord Voldemort
1. Chapter 1

**_Author's Note:_** ** _I do not own Harry Potter, that honor belong's to J.K. Rowling. I only play with her characters for free amusement._**

 _ **Warnings:**_ _ **This story will be a Ravenclaw!Harry and a Dark!Harry with an Almost Sane!Voldemort. This story will contain slash but I will try to keep lemons down to a minimum. Some cursing might appear, but only rarely. There will probably be graphic duels, dark arts, and maybe a bit of torture. There will be confused!Sirius, I-messed-up!Remus, and a tad bit of annoying!Ron later in the story. Oh, there will be a larger, more pro-active!Order of the Phoenix and Ambitious-Conniving!Death Eaters.**_

 _ **Thank you for reading, I hope you enjoy!**_

 _ **Little Gem**_

Private Drive was saturated in a foul sour odor emanating from the kitchen. Harry blearily wiped his eyes and stumbled out of his cupboard, trying to find what that horrid smell was. He found his Aunt Petunia standing over the sink with a large wooden spoon in hand. In the sink was steaming hot grey water and what looked like different types of dark rags.

"I thought poaching elephants was illegal?" Harry asked Petunia as he crinkled his nose.

"Don't be stupid boy," Petunia snapped testily. "I'm dying some of Dudley's old things grey for your Stonewall uniform."

Harry raised an eyebrow at his uniform. How on earth was he supposed to blend in wearing oversized _and_ foul smelling clothing? It was as if Petunia was trying to take over Dudley's role of ensuring Harry never made a single friend.

Dudley and Uncle Vernon came barreling through the swinging kitchen door, both of whom wrinkled their noses at the smell of Harry's new uniform. As per usual Uncle Vernon sat down at the head of the table and opened his newspaper while Dudley banged his Smelting's stick, which he carried everywhere, on the table. Harry had just set Vernon's coffee on the table when they heard the click of the mail slot and flop of letters on the doormat.

"Get the mail Dudley," said Vernon from behind his paper that was flipped to the International section.

Harry looked up wide eyed in shock before sneaking a peak at Dudley and sticking out his tongue. This seemed to infuriate Dudley who said, "Make Harry get it, I'm eating."

"Get the mail boy," Vernon grumbled unconcernedly.

Not one to give in so easily Harry bolstered up a bit of courage and said, "Make Dudley get it."

Dudley looked at Harry in shock; it wasn't often Harry spoke back after all, before he gripped his stick tightly and launched it at Harry from across the table. Harry dove out of his seat and evaded the blow. Just as he entered the hall way he heard Vernon praise his son, "Good boy, Dudley."

Harry rolled his eyes as he picked up the mail and rifled through it without much thought. There was a letter from Marge – Vernon's sister, a few bills, a postcard from Petunia's friend who was on vacation in Majorca, and a letter for Harry. His hands trembled slightly as he stared at the emerald green ink on thick yellowish parchment.

 _Mr. H. Potter_

 _The Cupboard under the Stairs_

 _4 Private Drive_

 _Little Whinging_

 _Surrey_

Harry's first thought was that this had to be some sort of joke. That one of the Dursley's had for some bizarre reason had played a joke on him. But the thickness of the _parchment,_ not paper, the purple wax seal with the large 'H' stamped into it, and the fancy, curly script the address was written in was just too much effort for a Dursley to put into Harry Potter. It was absurd, much like the idea of the prime minister stopping by for dinner. Not only were the Dursley's as unimaginative as a cardboard box but they also cared so little about him that they often forgot to feed him or let him out his cupboard for bathroom breaks.

So who had addressed this curious letter? Who could possibly know that his room was the cupboard under the stairs? Harry flipped over the letter once again and broke the wax seal with his finger. Inside the envelope was more of the expensive parchment and Harry felt his pulse start to race as he unfolded the two sheets.

"Are you checking the letters for bombs? Hurry up boy!" Vernon Dursley shouted from the kitchen table and Harry jumped. He'd forgotten he'd been sent to get the mail.

Quickly, Harry opened his cupboard and hid the envelope and parchment under his pillow before he made his way back to the kitchen. Uncle Vernon was not in a particularly pleasant mood and if Harry was right and this letter wasn't a prank by one of the Dursley's then the last thing Harry needed was for the man to learn that someone _knew._ If someone had found out about the cupboard then what else did they know?

No it was definitely better not to let on that anything was amiss.

"Sorry uncle Vernon," Harry said quietly as he handed the mail over and took the large ceramic mug.

His uncle didn't respond as he rifled through mumbling – ' _Marge is ill – vacation in Majorca' –_ while Petunia did the crossword in the games section of the paper. Dudley was the only one paying the least bit of attention to Harry; he was trying very hard to hit Harry with his new Smelting's stick while Harry refilled Vernon's coffee.

Harry wanted desperately to ask to go back to his cupboard, to see _who_ had written to him – prank or not – because he had never received mail before. Not even from the library. But asking to go _back_ to his cupboard was like putting on a giant sign that flashed in neon colors saying ' _I'm doing something I shouldn't be'._

Reluctantly, Harry waited until the family had wandered out of the kitchen and the dishes were washed to sneak back into his closet. The television was on which provided Harry the much needed distraction so he could examine this odd letter. Butterflies erupted in his stomach as Harry grabbed the envelope and parchment, slowly unfolding until his eyes drank in the first line.

 _HOGWARTS SCHOOL OF WITCHCRAFT AND WIZARDRY_

Even as his mind exploded into a plethora of questions and childish awe Harry couldn't stop his eyes from flying over the page.

 _Headmaster: Albus Percival Wulfric Brian Dumbledore_

 _(Order of Merlin, First Class, Grand Sorcerer,_

 _Chief Warlock, Supreme Mugwump, International Confederation of Wizards.)_

 _Dear Mr. Potter,_

 _We are pleased to inform you that you have been accepted at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. Please find enclosed list of all necessary books and equipment. Term begins on September 1. We await your owl by no later than July 31._

 _Yours sincerely,_

 _Minerva McGonagall_

 _(Deputy Headmistress)_

Harry sucked in a harsh breath and reread the letter at least five times. While at first a very large portion of his mind was very adamant that magic wasn't real, the longer Harry sat there staring at the list of supplies on the second page the more Harry remembered how weird things always seemed to happen to him.

At one point he had turned a teacher's hair blue when she had laughed at him when Dudley had pulled his much too large pants down in the middle of class. Then there was the time that Petunia had tried to shave his head and his hair grew back overnight or when she tried to put a horrendous sweater with puffballs on him and it shrunk before their eyes until it was smaller than her hand. Or when Dudley and his gang had chased Harry and he had somehow ended up on _top_ of the school roof. Was magic the reason Harry could talk to that python in the zoo? He had gotten in so much trouble for all of these…and he had been terrified because he couldn't control it.

Were these weird happenings _magic?_ Would Hogwarts teach him how to control it? How to _wield_ it?

That last thought brought an eager smile to his lips. Just imagining that he could learn to do magic was exciting, sent his pulse racing. If it was true…if this letter wasn't a prank…It couldn't hurt to write back. Either he would be ridiculed by the prankster or he would be a _wizard_ …not a very hard choice when one choice so heavily outweighed the other.

But what did they mean they await an owl?

Harry frowned and stared at the word as if it would grant him some clue as to what it meant. Owls were nocturnal, Harry knew that, but he had never actually seen one. How was he supposed to capture an owl? Let alone get it to deliver a letter?

With a sigh Harry glanced over the list, the reality of his situation setting in. Even if this letter was real and he managed to find an owl, there was no way the Dursley's would pay for Harry to go to magic school. They _loathed_ anything remotely weird, such as teenagers in ripped jeans and black band t-shirts; they would die before they spent money on Harry – especially for magic.

Harry jumped up and pushed the letter back under the pillow. He wanted to forget all about it but as he walked into the living room his mind was still forming lists upon lists of questions. Harry didn't know why he believed a letter so easily – it just felt right – and he wanted desperately to go to Hogwarts, to learn magic.

It was then that something caught his attention, something flashed in the corner of his eye. Harry looked at Vernon who was entranced in the television before looking out the window. Much to his amazement there was a brown owl sitting on the fence. Harry raced outside, running despite Vernon yelling at him to stop running in the house, and over to the owl who showed no signs of being skittish. In fact it looked right at Harry and hooted.

Harry's green eyes widened in surprise and he couldn't stop himself from asking, "Are you a Hogwarts owl?"

The owl hooted again.

"Wait here please? I'll go write a reply – just wait here!" Harry called over his shoulder as he ran back into the house. Vernon had gone back to his show and paid no mind to Harry as he flung himself in his cupboard and banged the door shut.

He pulled out a piece of notebook paper and a pen from his backpack from the previous year and hurriedly scrawled out, not adding any questions he had in fear of the owl flying away and losing his chance.

 _Dear Professor McGonagall,_

 _Does Hogwarts have a school representative they can send? I am afraid my relatives won't believe in magic as easy as I did and I have so many questions._

 _Thank you,_

 _Harry Potter_

He tried to fold the notebook paper neatly and Harry even tore off the edges where he tore the paper out but the letter was horrendously ugly next to the pretty loopy scrawl and parchment of the Hogwarts letter. But even that didn't stop him from holding out the thin paper unsure of what to do next. The owl seemed to sigh at him as he swooped down, grasped the letter in its beak, and flew off. Harry watched in awe until the owl had flown so far it couldn't be seen and then made his way back to his cupboard.

If Hogwarts was real – and there was a great deal of circumstantial evidence to suggest so – Harry didn't have very long until term started. He idly wondered if he was unable to attend Hogwarts if he could find out how to teach himself magic. Despite having to do worse than Dudley in all his classes for fear of Dursley wrath, Harry was a studious student. He loved to learn and to teach himself new things. If he could only find a magical library Harry was sure he could teach himself magic in secret. After all the time Harry hid out in the library from Dudley and his gang he was quite good at navigating libraries.

Even with only a shaky hope of attending Hogwarts Harry tore out more pages from his notebook and made a crude calendar to count the days.

The next day passed by so slowly that Harry wondered if he might explode from impatience. He _needed_ to know if magic was real and even though it was highly illogical that another owl would come so soon, Harry couldn't stop himself from peeking out the window in hope. If the Dursley's noticed Harry's unusual behavior they didn't comment. Vernon strode off to work and Dudley was out with his gang causing general chaos and beating up the other eleven year old kids who were smaller than he was. Petunia had Harry weeding the garden while she watched her soap opera and for the first time Harry wasn't bitter over the fact as it put him that much closer should the owl come back.

But no owl showed up that day or the next. Harry had just finished the dishes after lunch and had started to lose his hope. His gaze still darted to the window and the thought of Hogwarts made his stomach flop around but Harry couldn't stop the fear that snaked its way through his system. What if magic was real but because he was so clueless they wrote him off? Or what if the owl got lost or sick and the letter never made it to Professor McGonagall? What if Harry was meant to go to Hogwarts but never got to because of a mishap?

These thoughts rolled around mercilessly in his head, warring for dominance over his growing list of questions about magic. Could everyone talk to snakes? Was the owl okay? What were the limits of magic? Questions continued to simmer in his mind until Harry was completely filled with nerves and unable to sit down.

It wasn't long after he went back to his cupboard to stare at his calendar that the doorbell rang and Harry's heart leapt into his throat. Quietly he opened his cupboard door as Dudley opened the front door. There on the front porch was a woman tall enough to tower over Dudley. Harry's eyes widened as he took in her black dress and pointed hat. The woman's expression was stern; her lightly wrinkled mouth was set in a straight line and her hard eyes were behind square shaped glasses. Harry found himself rather dumbstruck at the stern looking woman; she was certainly brave to come to the Dursley house dressed like _that._

"I'm here to see Mr. Harry Potter, is he in?" The woman asked Dudley in a thick Scottish accent. Although Harry couldn't see Dudley's face he imagined the boy had to have had his own look of surprise.

"M-mum!" Dudley hollered loudly. "MUM!"

The woman on the porch locked eyes with Harry and he watched as her sternness gave way to shock. Her mouth opened to say something but it was drowned out when Petunia came out of the kitchen. "What's the matter Dudley, who is –" Petunia stopped talking as she made a choking sound before she walked forward and Harry could see her pull herself up to full height.

"Go away; we don't tolerate _freaks_ in this house." Petunia snarled caustically. Harry watched with wide eyes. Petunia had _never_ called anyone but him a freak. She had most definitely never spoken with such hostility to anyone but Harry.

 _Freaks._ Was the reason Petunia had been so hostile because Harry and the woman were magic? But then – that'd mean that she _knew_ about magic. That Vernon and Petunia knew about magic –

"Mrs. Dursley that is exceedingly rude," the woman replied in shocked anger as her cheeks tinted pink. "Witches and Wizards are _not_ freaks. Merlin, your nephew is one!" Now the strange woman was definitely angry as she stalked forward into the hall and Dudley backed away in fear to stand behind his mother.

"He'll not be going, we won't allow it. We won't _tolerate_ that freakishness here." Petunia seemed royally angry but Harry watched her hands shake violently.

"You knew?" Harry finally spoke up and opened the cupboard door fully. There was a cry of rage from the oddly dressed woman but Harry could only stare at his aunt. "You knew I was magic and you never told me?"

"Mr. Potter – "

Petunia cut the woman off, her voice scathing. "Of course we knew, how could we not? Your mother and father being what they were. Fat lot of good freakishness did them; they went and got themselves _blown up._ "

Blown up. Harry felt as if Petunia had strangled him. Her ashen face and the hellfire in her eyes did nothing to help. For as long as he could remember the Dursley's had told him that his father had been a drunk, that he had been driving drunk and gotten his mother killed.

"Blown up?" Despite however angry being lied to made him Harry couldn't help but ask. What had blown up his parents? A bomb? Magic?

"Mrs. Dursley are you telling me that Mr. Potter has no idea who he _is_? Who his _parents_ were?" Harry looked to the woman and almost flinched back. Her eyes were dancing in fury and she now had a stick in her hand that was shooting out red and gold sparks sporadically. Even as scary as she was though this display of magic enraptured Harry. This, these colored sparks that come out of a piece of wood, was the first display of magic he'd ever seen. He wondered if she would perhaps do more but one look at her furious expression left Harry unable to muster up the courage to ask. She had angry blotches of red in her cheeks and her fists were clenched.

"Albus Dumbledore left this boy in your care," the angrier the woman seemed to get the thicker her accent seemed to get.

"We never wanted him," Petunia stated in prim anger though she was more timid than she had been moments ago, seemingly wary of the sparks coming from the other woman. "He was forced upon us, left on our doorstep like trash with only a letter to threaten us into keeping him."

"What?" Harry managed to ask in a shaky voice full of disbelief.

The woman seemed equally as shocked, "Albus would never – "

When the woman faltered Petunia pounced like shark that smelled blood in the water. "But he did! I woke up the next morning and the little freak was crying on the doorstep."

"This boy is your family! How could you – _are you out of your mind?"_ Almost like magic the woman seemed far taller and the air far warmer. "You are the most despicable M _uggles_ – no _people_ I have ever had the misfortune of meeting."

Fascinated at how thoroughly petrified Petunia was, Harry watched the woman stalk forward reminding him greatly of a lion. Somehow without his noticing Harry had ended up behind her, looking at Petunia and Dudley's terrified faces. "I have met _Death Eaters_ who treat their family better than you. This," she waved her arm in the cupboard's direction, "this is _child abuse_ \- you monster!"

It happened faster than Harry could blink, one second Petunia was fine and the next the woman in front of him angled her arm and bright bolt purple light hit his aunt in the chest. Petunia screamed briefly before strangled choking noises took over. It almost looked as she couldn't breathe until large black bats began flying out of her nostrils. Dudley was horrified and crying but Harry watched with a gleeful smile. The bats flew about the hall in a terrified way before finally making their way out the door all the while Harry laughed delightedly.

"Mr. Potter," the woman called over Harry's delighted laughing and the Dursley's horrified screaming, "I suggest we leave." She held out her arm which Harry didn't hesitate to take. Then the world went black and Harry felt as though he'd been sucked through a straw.


	2. Chapter 2

**_Author's Note: Hope you enjoy and don't forget to review! I love to hear you questions, comments, and concerns._**

 ** _Little Gem_**

It was only a heartbeat later that Harry felt his feet hit concrete and he promptly bent over. His mouth was coated in a thick layer of saliva and his stomach churned violently. A warm hand rubbed soothing circles on his back as Harry fought the wave of nausea. "Sorry," he managed weakly as he looked up.

The woman smiled at him, "You wouldn't be the first to throw up on my shoes this week Mr. Potter."

The nausea only lasted a few minutes longer before excitement took its place. Harry looked around, quite shocked that they were now standing on a concrete sidewalk in front of a very odd scene. On the left there was an everyday hair salon and on the right there was a shoe store, but in the center – seemingly invisible to the crowd that rushed by – was an old building with a rustic door and a sign over the top that read ' _The Leaky Cauldron'._

"Where are we?" Harry asked, curious as to where he'd been taken.

"Ah my apologies Mr. Potter," she replied with a smile, "I am Professor McGonagall and this is the muggle entrance to Diagon Alley."

"How did we get here? What was that?" Harry asked in breathless excitement. He was struggling between wanting to know the specifics and wanting explore this new world.

Professor McGonagall pulled open the door and motioned for Harry to enter. "We disapparated, most muggleborns refer to it as some sort of teleportation."

Inside was homey and comfortable and mysterious, Harry drank it in with glee. Rags wiped tables on their own, chairs moved around, a witch with a rag made a mug disappear in her hands, and in the corner were a small group of wizards smoking pipes and playing a game with some sort of tiles Harry had never seen before. Up ahead behind the bar was elderly man listening to a small radio and lazily making smoke circles. When the bartender spotted McGonagall he smiled and waved, "Fifth time in three days Professor McGonagall, perhaps a drink?"

Professor McGonagall waved him off with a stern glance that Harry found less than threatening after earlier, "You know I can't Tom."

Harry followed behind the professor as Tom the barman looked at him in curiosity. Harry was lead out a back door and into a tiny alley with brick walls and a trashcan. "To open the door to the Alley you have to tap the brick that is three up and two across. If you ever forget you can ask old Tom, he helps many a student through these walls." McGonagall tapped a brick with her wand and Harry watched in fascination as the bricks began to move and resort themselves.

Harry desperately wished for eight more eyes. There were shops selling robes, shops selling telescopes and crystal vials, and shops that held strange instruments Harry had never seen before. Little carts to the side sold Dragon liver – seventeen sickles an ounce – and windows were stacked with barrels of bat spleens and eel eyes. Some shops had piles of spell books piled so high that they were about to topple over, others had enormous stacks of parchment and bundles of quills, there were shelves of potions ingredients, and there were several globes of the moon and other planets.

"Welcome to Diagon Alley, Mr. Potter," Professor McGonagall announced quietly with an understanding smile.

"Where do we go first?" Harry asked excitedly, wanting to look at everything all at once.

"Gringotts," McGonagall pointed straight ahead to a large white marble building that looked precariously crooked. It was far off but so large that Harry could easily make it out. "The only bank for wizards and run by goblins, it's one of the safest places in the world and there's a bank in most major cities and shopping districts."

Almost immediately reality crashed into Harry and he tore his eyes away from the bustling crowd to look at the Deputy Headmistress. "I haven't got any money Professor," Harry said quietly.

Suddenly Professor McGonagall looked highly uncomfortable but she laid a hand on his shoulder, "Your parents left you everything they had Mr. Potter. But we'll talk about that later, for now let's get your supply list out of the way." From the sad smile she gave Harry assumed it wasn't likely to be a happy conversation.

As it turns out goblins are exactly as grotesque as they sounded. They were no taller than three or four feet at most and they had odd features like small beady eyes and large, crooked, and pointed noses. Inside the massive double doors inscribed with a poem that curled Harry's lips into a smile was a giant, cavernous room with marble floors and columns. Each side was lined in high wooden desks and behind each desk was a goblin teller, some of whom counted large piles of gold on scales and others who were talking with witches and wizards.

Professor McGonagall led Harry up to a teller on the left and cleared her throat. "Mr. Potter wishes to make a withdrawal."

The goblin looked up from the piece of parchment it was reading and looked over his glasses, "And does Mr. Potter have his key?"

McGonagall produced a tiny golden key from her pocket and set it on the teller's desk. The goblin picked it up, peered at it shrewdly, and then nodded. "Griphook!" He called and not moments later a smaller, younger goblin scurried forward. "Take Mr. Potter to his vault."

Harry only had a brief moment to wonder why his professor had his vault key before the elder witch turned to him. "Go with Griphook Mr. Potter," Professor McGonagall told him, "I have to retrieve something out of another vault while we're here."

So Harry followed Griphook into a haphazard cart. "Hold tight," was Harry's only warning before the cart shot off like a roller coaster. Down, down, Harry swallowed a scream of delight as the cart descended further before suddenly jerking right. The ride continued; right, left, straight, right….Harry lost track when he swore he caught a glimpse of some sort of monstrous beast. At last the cart came to an abrupt hold and the goblin stepped out. Harry followed and watched as the goblin ran a sharpened fingernail down the door. A series of locks could be heard unlocking and finally the door split in two and swung open.

Harry felt his jaw drop at the sight. There was a huge pile of glittering gold that was almost as tall as he was and it was surrounded by even bigger piles of little bronze and silver pieces. "The gold ones are Galleons, the silver ones are Sickles, and the bronze ones are Knuts." The goblin explained when he saw Harry's gob smacked expression. "Seventeen Sickles to a Galleon and twenty-nine Knuts to a Sickle."

"This is all mine?" Harry asked, feeling quite soverwhelmed.

"Of course it is, though it's not the extent of the Potter fortune. The family vault is sealed until you turn seventeen." Harry looked at the goblin in surprise.

"There's more?"

"This is your trust fund, Mr. Potter. For your schooling and any expenses you encounter until you graduate Hogwarts. Thereafter your trust will dissolve back into the main Potter family vault. Inside that vault are any valuables of the nonmonetary value and of course the gold. There are a few properties but I do not know the specifics."

Harry looked at Griphook in disbelief, "How do you know all of this?"

"I want the honor of being a Family account manager one day, Mr. Potter. It is the job of each manager to know tentative basics on all old families because in one way or another they are all connected."

"Can I – I mean is there a way to know what all was left to me?"

The goblin nodded, "All you have to do is ask to speak to your Account Manager, Longfang."

Harry's mind began to make loose plans, "Thank you Griphook you've taught me a lot. One last question, is there anything like a wallet to hold the money I withdraw?"

The goblin tossed a small black drawstring bag at Harry who deftly caught it in mid-air. "Those pouches are Gringotts standard issue and they are charmed to hold more than they look to. There are also gold cards for wealthier families but you'd have to ask Longfang for one."

With that Harry scooped up fistfuls of galleons – only stopping when he estimated he had taken somewhere around a hundred – and a fistful of both Sickles and Knuts. The idea of a gold card was instantly appealing; Harry knew he had much to learn which meant books and now that he had money he would like some clothes that weren't Dudley's hand-me-downs.

The ride back was quick and once again Harry thanked Griphook before making his way over to Professor McGonagall. "Professor!"

"Get everything you need?" Harry nodded, quite pleased with his trust vault and the little goblin who had helped him. "Good now, I thought we could make quick work of getting your supplies before grabbing a light lunch. I have to be in Ireland in time to deliver more letters."

"Is there a way for me to get back on my own Professor?" Harry asked, feigning nonchalance. He desperately wanted to stay in the magical world and thought he'd go mad if he was forced back to Private Drive. Professor McGonagall looked at him with a torn expression, as if she both understood his plight and but it was against her better judgement to leave a child on his own. "It's just – I mean I want to get plenty of books to learn about the magical world and I want clothes of my own. I've never had any proper ones."

Professor McGonagall broke, Harry could see it just by looking at her and he suppressed a triumphant smile. "Well…I suppose I could have Tom watch out for you. There are rooms above the Leaky Cauldron for rent, but only one night Mr. Potter, understood?"

Harry nodded quickly with a bright smile, "Of course Professor."

This seemed to appease Professor McGonagall, "When you get your wand all you'll need to do is stand on the curb on the Muggle street and raise your wand in the air. This signals the Knight Bus and for fifteen sickles they'll take you anywhere in the U.K."

Harry nodded and the Professor continued, "Let's just get a bite to eat then. I can imagine you're anxious to explore without your teacher and I don't blame you, it's quite common. Though I do urge you to be careful and to be in your room before nightfall."

"So what class do you teach Professor?" Harry asked as they strolled back down the cobblestone street towards the Leaky Cauldron.

"Transfiguration," Professor McGonagall answered proudly, "Which is the alteration of the form or appearance of an object – or in advanced Transfiguration, person – by altering the molecular structure."

"Can you transfigure something for me?" Harry asked, earning a laugh from the witch.

McGonagall looked at him shrewdly for a moment before she pointed her wand at him. At once his clothes began to shift and change and Harry found once they were settled, that they now fit him perfectly. "Brilliant," Harry said in awe. He could not wait to get his own wand.

"Your father was extremely gifted at Transfiguration, first in his class to succeed in Human Transformations. In his _first_ class he managed to make himself sprout horns – I nearly keeled over in shock." A fond smiled played on McGonagall's lips as she reminisced. "Your mother however was exceptional at Charms."

Harry was immediately alarmed as they sat down at a table inside the pub and McGonagall wiped a stray tear away. "You knew them well?"

"Aye, your father was exceedingly gifted; I often tutored him in advanced magic. He earned his Masters under my tutelage and we spent many a days together during the summer." Her voice was quiet and laced in a sorrow that Harry would never know – at least not for his parents.

"How did he die?" McGonagall had known this question was coming, that this conversation was unavoidable after the explosion back at Private Drive, yet her face still went pale.

Nervously she played with the cup of tea that had appeared in front of her. "You have to understand Harry, that the wizarding world is not perfect, far from it actually." McGonagall took a deep breath before she continued, "There was a dark wizard – more powerful than you could imagine and so inhumanly evil that many thought he was a demon. He gathered other dark wizards, Death Eaters, and waged a terroristic war on the Ministry of Magic – yes there's a Ministry.

"Light wizards banded together to try and stop the Dark wizards but the Dark Lord –" McGonagall, if possible, went even paler. "V-Voldemort," she stuttered with a violent shudder, "was too strong. No one who stood against him lived. Your parents were part of the fight against him and they were well known for their skills. V- Well we call him _You-Know-Who_ or _He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named_ , he went after your parents and they perished."

The whole room seemed ear shatteringly quiet to Harry who grew uncomfortable at McGonagall's haunted gaze. She was no longer looking at him but staring at out the window. "He tried to kill you too." She said hoarsely and Harry stiffened. "There's a curse so powerful that it's impossible to block, it's called the Killing Curse and it immediately severs your soul from your body. He cast it on you – by all rights you should have died – but something happened."

With each word Harry's blood chilled. "Nobody knows how but you survived the impossible with only a scar on your forehead, some say your mother sacrificed her life for yours, but _You-Know-Who_ vanished. Nobody has seen or heard of him in a decade."

"What?" Harry asked, his voice cutting through the atmosphere like a knife.

Professor McGonagall's gaze snapped back to Harry and she smiled a humorless, grim smile. "You are known as the Boy-Who-Lived, Harry. Every child has been brought up on stories of how you defeated the worst Dark Lord in centuries."

They hadn't ordered any food and suddenly Harry was glad of it. He had completely lost his appetite and had a sudden urge to get far away from the Transfiguration Professor. "I – Thank you for helping me today Professor but I think I'll let you get on with the other students who are waiting for their letter." With that Harry stood and turned to make his way back to the Alley when McGonagall's hand caught his shoulder.

Her eyes were full of pity and Harry looked over her shoulder with his teeth clenched. "Remember Mr. Potter one night, I will check with Tom that you do not stay longer."

With a sharp tug Harry pulled away made his way back to the alley. He was famous? Famous for somehow killing a powerful Dark Wizard? Harry wanted to scoff, he couldn't have hell he couldn't even defend himself against muggles. He was weak and pathetic…

Harry's emerald eyes found the store that had caught his interest on the way to Gringotts, Ollivander's Wand Shop. He may be weak now but Harry vowed he wouldn't be for long. The first step to achieving that would be a wand.

Ollivander's was blessedly quiet and the wand maker was behind the counter polishing a dark red wood wand. Harry felt a shiver roll down his spine as the magic in the room embraced him and he found Ollivander staring at him as if trying to read his soul. The wand maker laid down the wand and motioned for Harry to close the door behind him. "Ah, Harry Potter I thought I'd be seeing you."

"Hello Mr. Ollivander." Harry replied politely feeling very peculiar at the wand maker's silver stare.

"Now, Mister Potter, which is your wand arm?" Ollivander asked as he produced his own sandy colored wand and flicked it at the counter. Immediately a tape measure sprung to life and zoomed over to Harry and began measuring him.

"Er- I write with my right hand, sir." Harry replied distractedly as he watched in fascination as the little tape measure began measuring the space between his eyes and the length of his fingers. Ollivander nodded and disappeared behind the tall shelves that housed more wands than he could count.

After a few minutes Ollivander returned with and armful of wand boxes that he placed on the counter. With a flick of his wand the tape measure zoomed back to the counter and went immobile. "Step up, step up. Let's try this first," Harry stepped forward as Ollivander pulled a cream colored wand from a box and handed it to him.

It had barely been in his grasp a second before Ollivander ripped it away and produced a new one, this one a slightly darker brown. He looked at Harry expectantly, "Well give it a wave."

Harry waved the wand and the glass vase with a rose was shattered. "Nope, nope. Larch is definitely not for you." He waved his wand and a few boxes on the counter went zooming back to the shelves.

"Let's try Birch," Ollivander handed Harry a longer light brown wand and he waved it. Along the far wall wand boxes shot out of their shelf and went flying. "Apparently not. Here try Elm."

They exchanged wand after wand, each either causing more chaos in the small store or failing to produce anything at all. It wasn't until Harry was handed an Ebony wand that a single green spark was emitted. It was progress but still not right. For half an hour Harry tried all kinds of wands; Pine, Hawthorne, Red Oak, Dogwood, and Cypress. He was beginning to wonder if he'd ever find a wand when Ollivander looked at him speculatively. "I wonder."

The wand maker disappeared again, this time behind a curtain that was behind the counter, and returned moments later with only a single box. He handed Harry a wand that was a light brown it with a smooth polished handle.

As soon as it touched his fingers Harry knew this was his wand. A sense of warmth enveloped his hand and he felt his magic react, pouring into the wand as if anxiously greeting an old friend. Harry raised his hand and brought it down, producing a shower of silver sparks. A great smile erupted on his face as he felt his soul sing, _he was a real wizard._

"Bravo! Bravo! Yes this is most definitely your wand. Holly and Phoenix feather, eleven inches… a very unusual pairing but nice and supple nonetheless." Ollivander, despite his merry words, looked pensive. As the older man took back the wand and moved back toward the counter Harry heard him mumble _'Curious…curious…'_

"Sorry, but what's curious?" For a long moment Ollivander froze and said nothing, but then the wand maker turned around and his eyes searched Harry's.

"I remember every wand I've ever sold Mr. Potter. Your mother's, your father's, Albus Dumbledore's, even _He – Who – Must – Not – Be – Named_. They have all purchased their wands here." Harry felt his stomach clench at that. "It just so happens that the Phoenix, whose tail feather lies in your wand, gave another feather – just one other. It is curious Mr. Potter, that you should be destined for this wand when its brother gave you that scar."

"Voldemort and I have brother wands?" His voice was breathless and airy; he couldn't actually catch his breath. It was as if it had been knocked out of him.

"Curious isn't it?" Then Ollivander bent closer to Harry and studied him carefully as if looking for something. "I think we will see great things from you Mr. Potter, after all the Dark Lord did great things – terrible – but _great."_

Harry liked the sound of that and felt his lips curl into a smile. "Mr. Ollivander, is there anything special about brother wands? Any meaning behind it or consequences?"

For a long while the wand maker looked terrified and as he gazed at Harry the younger wizard could actually feel the inspection of himself. Finally the fear subsided and was replaced with a look that Harry was very familiar with, eager curiosity. "There are strange laws regarding wands, Mr. Potter. Subtle yet strong, these laws have been tested countless times over in wand lore. _Wand of Elder, never prosper – Thestral hairs will never bow to any but those who walk with death – and brother wands shall never duel each other."_

Harry felt his breath quicken, "They won't…?"

Ollivander looked to Harry sharply, "They _can't_ Mr. Potter, they are unable."

"But – I mean Voldemort is gone, isn't he?" The wand maker flinched at the Dark Lord's name but made no other move as Harry leaned forward.

"No one knows what happened that night Mr. Potter. No one is even sure that _He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named_ is really dead. There was no body ever found and his wand was never recovered. It was as if he vanished." Harry shuddered at the elder wizard's words. If what McGonagall had told him about that night was true – that he had survived the unstoppable Killing Curse – could it perhaps not have been something his mother had done, but because of their wand connection?

"How are wands chosen Mr. Ollivander? Is it random or - ?"

Ollivander chuckled condescendingly at the question, "The wand chooses the wizard Mr. Potter, the – " He stopped short as if he had been startled by something. "Do you believe in fate?"

The question had been asked so quietly that Harry almost didn't hear it. "Is it possible the Killing Curse rebounded because you were destined for this wand?"

Normally his mind was not one to contemplate anything quite as heavy as life, death, god, or _fate…_ but Harry couldn't shirk the overwhelming sureness that came with their conversation. Suddenly, Harry wasn't sure that having this conversation with Ollivander was such a good idea.

"No body…no wand… and a boy he cannot kill." Ollivander murmured quietly, staring at Harry. "Almost as if – "

Ollivander straightened back up and made his way back behind the counter. "The wand is seven galleons; would you like to purchase a dragon hide wand holster as well?"

"Please," Harry replied as he tried to wrap his mind around all that he had just learned. Ollivander didn't say another word as he bagged Harry's purchases and the younger wizard made his way to the door. Harry stopped with his hand on the knob and turned around to find grey eyes watching him.

"What was he like sir?" Harry asked before he could smother his curiosity. "What was Voldemort like when you met him?"

"He is like the sun," Ollivander replied after a minute, his eyes far away. "He burns so brightly that others are invisible next to his splendor."

Harry left the wand shop and disappeared into the crowded Alley, thoughts of this mysterious Dark Lord and their fated connection on his mind.


	3. Chapter 3

**_Author's Note: Don't forget to review!_**

 ** _Little Gem_**

Harry's next stop was Gringotts, again. He had headed to Madam Malkin's Robes for All Occasions but halfway there he'd realized he had no idea how much clothing cost. So Harry turned around and made a beeline for the bank. He really wanted one of those gold cards Griphook had told him about.

The same teller was at his desk counting what looked to be large sapphires. Harry made his was over and waited until the goblin had finished measuring the jewel he had in his hand. "Yes, Mr. Potter? Is there a problem?"

"Um, no sir. I was wondering if I could talk to Longfang?" The Goblin laughed heartily as did several others within earshot.

Seeing Harry affronted expression the Goblin's laughter died. "It is not every day that a wizard calls a goblin sir, my apologies Mr. Potter. I'll send Snarlclaw to find Longfang." As soon as the Goblin named Snarlclaw heard his name he snapped to attention and disappeared behind a heavy wooden door.

The Goblin appeared content to go back to examining sapphires so Harry watched the others. One Goblin was stamping pieces of parchment and one behind him was carting away large black bags over flowing with gold.

"Ah Mr. Potter, it's nice to finally meet you."

Harry turned back around and found a new Goblin beside him. The difference between Longfang and Snarlclaw was pronounced but the difference between Longfang and Griphook was like night and day. Griphook had been dressed in what looked like a uniform for teller assistants by what Harry could gather whereas Longfang was dressed in expensive fabrics and each of his fat fingers had a different ring with a different gem set in different metals.

"Longfang? I was hoping we could go over my inheritance."

"Of course, follow me Mr. Potter," the goblin turned abruptly and went through the door Snarlclaw had gone through earlier. Not knowing what to do, Harry followed his account manager.

"Have you been the Potter Account Manager for a long time?" Harry asked curiously as they walked.

"About five years ago Haggleblade died and I was appointed Potter manager by your magical guardian." Longfang replied.

The hallway he entered was long and wide with doors on either side. Some held names like _Abbot, Bones,_ and _Bulstrode._ Others held titles like _Senior Executive_ and _Weaponry_. Harry followed his fat goblin manager to the door with the label _Potter._ Inside there were huge metal weapons on the walls of all kinds from maces to spears and even swords. There was a large rug on the floor and a huge desk next to a fireplace. Harry sat in one of the chairs in front of the desk.

"My magical guardian?"

"Albus Dumbledore, he is charged with looking after you in the magical world." Harry nearly gaped at the goblin. The man who had left him with magic hating muggles was his guardian? He was not happy about that.

Longfang, oblivious to Harry's turmoil, sat behind his desk and pulled open a drawer. "Before we start I need to confirm you are Harry Potter, if you let three drops of blood fall on this parchment." The goblin slid a piece of parchment forward along with a rather wicked looking knife. Harry – no stranger to pain – hardly flinched as he cut his finger and let the drops of blood fall. Much to his surprise as soon as the third drop was absorbed into the parchment the cut on his finger sealed.

"Wicked," Harry whispered and Longfang smirked as he looked at the parchment.

"Alright," the goblin pulled out a rather thick looking folder. "What do you want to cover first; Investments, Vaults, Property, or Wizengamot seats?"

Harry considered his options; he didn't know much about investing or about the magical world so he should probably leave those alone until later. He was interested in what a Wizengamot was but – like with investments – he should probably hold off on them. "Vaults and Properties for now please."

"Well this sheet here," Longfang pushed a sheet of parchment at Harry, "shows all vaults and their monetary value."

Harry looked down at the parchment. He owned the Potter family vault like Griphook had said and a vault labelled ' _Donations & Bequeaths'_. Then there was his trust vault which had stipulations written under it. Harry was to receive a hundred galleons a month until he turned eleven upon which a sum of thirty thousand galleons were to be start being deposited from the family vault to pay for Hogwarts' tuition and any expenses he may have. Though what caught Harry's eye was that he was that he was supposed to have been receiving bank statements over his trust vault every month as explicitly stated by both whoever had set up his trust and Gringotts' policy on trusts.

Harry had never once received a statement. He had never known about this fortune of his.

"Why have I never received a bank statement for my trust?" Harry asked Longfang.

"Your guardian requested all statements be directed to him." This time Harry did gape…and then he scowled.

"I want that to stop, I want all statements sent directly to me as stated in in the stipulations of the vault." Longfang pulled another piece of parchment that, after a cursory read through was a form for requesting statements, Harry signed his name shakily with the odd feather that Longfang called a quill.

"What is the Donations and Bequeaths vault? Who is donating to it?"

Longfang pulled out another long and rolled up parchment and cleared his throat. "That vault was set up by your guardian to house all the donations and bequeaths to the Boy-Who-Lived after the downfall of the Dark Lord Voldemort by the people. No entry restrictions apply."

"What about properties?" It felt odd as the words slipped out of his mouth. Properties…just this morning he didn't even own clothes and now he had _properties_ , as in more than one.

"You have inherited a cottage in Godric's Hollow that was severely damaged in your defeat of Voldemort, Potter manor which is unplottable, a chateau near Sete, France, and a manor in Moscow, Russia." Disbelief shot through Harry like lightning. France? Russia? An unplottable house?

"I-is that considered a lot?" The question slipped out before he could stop it and the goblin laughed heartily.

"Hardly. Potter is an Ancient and Noble house, it has been around for centuries. Compared to other Ancient and Noble houses this is modest." Harry nodded still mystified.

"Are there any – I mean the houses they're abandoned?"

Longfang shook his head, "I'm afraid I don't know if any of the house elves are still alive."

"What's a house elf?" Harry asked.

"They are creatures that do wizards bidding. They bond with wizards and find joy in serving them. You should try calling the Potter elves and see if any are still alive." Harry handed the parchment back to Longfang.

"How do I call them?"

"Just order all Potter elves to present themselves for inspection that generally makes them happy."

Harry sucked in a shallow breath and - feeling completely ridiculous - said, "Er- All Potter house elves are to present themselves for inspection."

Much to Harry and Longfang's surprise two twin cracks resounded throughout the room. The two creatures, house elves, had large eyes the size of tennis balls and large floppy ears. Their skinny bodies were dressed in clean and what looked like ironed pillow cases with a crest on the right breast. The one on the left immediately burst into loud sobs and fell to the floor.

"Oh it's master! Milly has her young master!" The elf sobbed harder and proceeded to hug Harry's legs that were hanging off the chair not quite touching the floor.

"Er – Are you alright?" Harry asked the small elf who had started trembling violently.

"Milly has master! Milly was so upset – being ordered away from her master! Muggles –" the elf shuddered, "Muggles raised master and Milly couldn't help! Milly will never leave master, Milly promises!"

"Jordey be tellin' Milly new master would call." The second elf sounded thoroughly annoyed with Milly and Harry couldn't help but crack a smile. The male elf, Jordey, seemed very formal and his posture was ramrod straight. Jordey didn't move from his spot but he did continue to talk, "Master, Jordey is bein happy to see you. We's is the last two Potter elves but we's be good elves, we have kept the manor ready for you."

Harry could only stare at the two elves while his brain tried to catch up. Finally he asked, "Who ordered you to stay away?"

"Master James made Jordey prepare manor for Mistress Lily." Jordey answered. "Jordey was Master James' personal elf."

Though Milly was still sobbing she had calmed marginally and let go of Harry's legs, "Milly be master's elf." Harry guessed she was talking about him and smiled at her. "Milly was made to leave master because master went to live with muggles."

"Um, well it's nice to meet you guys." Jordey bowed deeply while Milly hiccupped and moved towards Harry as if she couldn't stand to be away.

"Is master pleased?" Jordey asked quieter than before as if he were scared.

"Pleased?"

"Master asked to inspect his elves." Jordey now looked even more nervous.

"Oh, yeah you guys are great." Jordey relaxed at this, his ramrod straight posture became less rigid and he timidly stepped closer.

"Mr. Potter why don't you set the elves some tasks so that we can finish up our business." Lonfang looked highly amused at Harry's floundering.

"Great idea," Harry jumped at the offer. "Um, you guys say you've kept Potter manor clean? Why don't you set me up a room and uh – make some lunch? I'm starved."

Immediately Jordey was gone but Milly stayed behind, "W-what colors does master be liking? Is master not like any food?" It looked like it almost pained her to ask these questions, as if it was horrible for her not to know.

"I like greens, and blues, black, and silvers, oh dark purple is good too." Harry tried to think about colors but didn't really know if he _disliked_ colors. "I don't know if I have a particular favorite food – just anything warm is fine, I guess."

That answer seemed to only make the small elf even more upset, "Milly be making master food so master can taste and choose." Before she disappeared Milly looked at Harry with panicked eyes, "Milly is bein a call away master, if master needs anything just call Milly."

"I promise," Harry replied and that seemed to ease Milly as she too disappeared.

"That was," Harry paused and looked to Longfang, "interesting."

Elves, Harry had elf servants, houses, and money. This whole day went from magnificent to bizarre in record time. Though Harry wouldn't complain; this meant Harry never had to return to Private Drive and for that Harry was willing to accept almost anything the magical world threw at him.

Longfang snorted loudly, "Elves can be rambunctious little devils, be sure you have a firm hand with them. And don't ever give them clothes, that's how you get rid of elves – fire them I suppose."

Harry nodded trying to soak it all in, "I suppose my next stop is Flourish and Blotts, too much to learn."

"Is there anything else I can help you with?"

Harry grinned widely, "I want one of those gold cards, I'd very much like to get new clothes and books and a card would be the easiest method of payment."

What Harry had been expecting Longfang to pull out of his desk was a card similar to muggle credit cards, but while the gold card was similar in size, shape, and thickness; the card was solid metal with a large G embossed on the front.

"Now," Longfang looked at Harry seriously and with each syllable shook the card in his hand, "this is a very simple process but Gringotts charges an annual fee of a hundred galleons for it, are you sure?"

There was enough gold in that vault that Harry was quite sure that a hundred galleons – even over a span of several years – wouldn't make a difference. "Yes," Harry said excitedly.

"Good then like you did with the parchment," the goblin pushed the dagger back across the desk, "three drops in the middle of the card."

When Harry had finished the card glowed and flashed a violent purple light. Harry peered at the card and found the same emblem that had been on the elves' breasts – A large black 'P' some kind of animal Harry had never seen before on each side and the words ' _Amicti Sapientia'_ written on a banner across the bottom.

"Do you know what it means?" Harry asked the Goblin.

"Cloaked in wisdom I believe, quite fitting when paired with Sphinxes." Longfang replied. Harry continued to stare at the coat of arms until his eyes roamed to the bottom of the card and he found his name beautifully embossed, _Harry James Potter._ His middle name was James, he hadn't known that.

"Thank you Longfang," Harry said tearing his eyes away from the card in his hands.

The Goblin stood and opened the door for Harry, "Any time Mr. Potter, may you always prosper."

Harry looked at the goblin and got the distinct impression he was supposed to respond in kind, "Er – may your gold always flow?"

Longfang smiled for the first time, a nasty and cruel smile, and Harry saw why his name was Longfang – the goblins teeth were the size of his fingers and ended in sharp points. With that Harry turned and made his way back into the main floor of Gringotts and out into Diagon Alley.

This time nothing stopped Harry as he made a beeline for Madam Malkin's. There were a few older witches browsing bolts of material along the far wall but there was only one other child that looked to be Harry's age. She was standing on a small round platform as a tape measure took her measurements. The girl had chocolate brown curly hair that fell to her collar bone and large blue eyes that seemed glazed over in boredom.

"Hogwarts robes dearie?" An older witch pulled Harry's attention away and Harry nodded. "Right this way, up on the platform."

Harry was made to stand next to the girl who was now eyeing him in interest and a tape measure began to measure every part of him. "Hello," the girl next to Harry said as her head cocked to the side.

"Hey," Harry replied as he watched the tape measure his fingers.

"Are you a muggleborn?" She asked as she raised an arm for her tape measure.

"Er – my parents were magical," Harry had never heard of a muggleborn but it wasn't hard to guess what the word meant.

"But you were raised in the muggle world?" The girl persisted.

"Yeah, didn't know magic existed before today." The girl looked pleased at her deduction.

"Do you know which house you want to be in at Hogwarts?" The girl asked but immediately rushed into another question before Harry could answer, "Do you think Hufflepuff would be awful? My cousin says that it's a shame to be sorted in Hufflepuff but I met one earlier while I was getting my wand – Cedric Diggory, do you know him? – he was really very kind and patient. It took me almost a half hour before I found my wand."

Harry had no idea what a Hufflepuff was nor could he even begin to guess. "No I don't know him."

"Well he was very patient even though he was only there for wand polish. Father says the world needs more kind people so does he really mean the world needs more Hufflepuffs? Well, I can't afford to be kind like a Hufflepuff. One day I'll take over grandfather's store and I'll need to be shrewd and ruthless." Harry watched in amusement as the girl next to him unloaded on him as if these thoughts had been eating at her while she had been standing there alone.

Then she smiled brightly as her tape measure settled onto a small step stool near her.

"Well I'm all done; I'll see you on the train!" With that the girl rushed to the counter where a blonde witch with a pointed hat and pink robes was talking with Madam Malkin.

After a few more minutes Madam Malkin came over only seconds after his tape measure had settled dormant on the step stool. "You'll be needing one set of robes, one hat, and a nametag pack for Hogwarts will you be wanting anything else?"

Harry nodded, "I don't have anything aside from muggle clothing."

Madam Malkin's eyes lit up and she took Harry's hand, dragging him away from the platform and over to the walls which held all sorts of robes, hats, gloves, boots, and even underwear. "You just pick out what you like and I can tailor them quicker than a snitch." With that she left Harry with a promise that if he needed any help she'd be at the counter.

So Harry browsed, unsure of himself but eager to get out of muggle clothes. There were clothes of all kinds – silk, cotton, Acromantula silk, whopperwear, self-ironing, self-repairing, and even clothes that promised to grow up to two inches. Harry grabbed self-repairing clothes; both long sleeved and short in a myriad of colors, black pants that would grow a couple inches, boxers with curious golden balls with wings flying around and snakes around the waistband.

Harry made several trips to the counter where Madam Malkin was holding all of his selections when they got too heavy to carry and then continued shopping. He picked out sneakers and boots, charmed leather gloves to keep his hands warm, and several cloaks – heavy for winter, light with a deep hood, a travelling cloak, and a cloak that was spelled to be resistant to most potion stains.

By the time Harry was ready to pay Madam Malkin was smiling amusedly as she finished up tailoring the clothes to Harry's measurements. "Well it's a shiny knut," the shop owner warned, "two hundred and thirty-three galleons."

"How am I not surprised?" she mumbled affectionately as Harry pulled out his Gringotts card. Quickly, without even looking at the card, she waved it over the register and when the card flashed green she handed it back.

"Would you like me to shrink these down for you?" Madam Malkin asked as soon as she finished up bagging up the clothes.

"No that's okay I'll have a house elf pick them up," Harry replied as he put his card back in his large pockets. Madam Malkin nodded and made her way to help another witch along the far wall with a quick, "Have a good day and please come back whenever you need."

"Milly," Harry said quietly and only a second later Milly appeared with a large smile.

"Master is callin' Milly!" She exclaimed happily as she awaited orders.

"I need you to take these back to the manor, and I might call on you a few more times for similar trips okay?" Milly nodded excitedly, flopping her big ears, and snapped her fingers. The huge stack of shopping bags disappeared and Harry grinned. Magic was amazing.

"Milly be putting Master's things in masters room," with that Milly disappeared and Harry was left to the rest of his shopping.

Hours seemed to fly by as Harry explored the Alley, picking up various instruments and ingredients. He had collected a three compartment trunk, vials, scales, a telescope, potions ingredients, cauldrons – one pewter size two and one self-stirring – and now all that was left was his books and maybe an animal. Though Harry wasn't sure he wanted a cat, he had no need for an owl, and a toad did not sound like a great pet.

Once Milly had taken his supplies back to the manor Harry found his way to Flourish and Blotts and ducked inside. The book shop was insanely crowded and shop clerks were running every which way. Harry ducked into the background and tuned out the noise. He let his eyes scan over shelves and anything that looked remotely informative for novices he picked up and put in the large basket that had been charmed to weigh nothing. First Harry grabbed his required texts from a large table with a sign that read, _'Hogwarts First Year Bundle.'_ Then Harry was off picking books that caught his eye. He grabbed books on house elves, Potions, the Ministry of Magic, hexes, history, Gringotts, St. Mungos, and Hogwarts.

By the time Harry made his way to the checkout line his basket was overflowing and a red haired wizard was smiling at him in amusement. "Ravenclaw?" He asked, though Harry had no idea what he was talking about. Luckily the person in front of the wizard finished up and it was his turn to check out.

Harry ended up spending almost a hundred galleons on books and he left the shop with a large smile and an exasperated clerk. Once again Milly made quick work of taking the books to the manor with a large smile of her own. Now all that was left was a pet. Harry did want one, the idea appealed to him, but the options did not. After Mrs. Figg, cats were not as cute as they used to be. But Harry did want to see the Menagerie, to see if there were magical pets he had never seen before.

The Magical Menagerie was a filled with the pungent aroma of animals and their noises. The shop clerk was checking out a witch and her son who was holding a large cage that held a brown owl. Harry made his way around the shop slowly, looking at all the animals. There were poisonous orange snails, black rats with glossy coats, giant tortoises with jewels encrusted in their shells, owls of all colors, little balls of fluff called Puffskeins, rabbits that transformed, and rats that used their tails to jump. Then Harry made his way to the Reptile section and his happy smile grew.

Inside glass cages were all sorts of snakes that ranged from small to large, amphibious, and even one with a emerald embedded in his head. Harry listened to their quiet hissing as he roamed the small area. Lizards of all shapes, sizes, and colors were darting around large cages and Harry watched a blue one run up the wall in amusement. Nothing in particular caught his eye until he saw an egg on a pedestal. Harry moved closer and read the little card below it: _'Skye Dragon – 30 galleons, see owner for packaging'._

"That there is a right rare creature," a gruff voice said from behind Harry and he spun around. "Not often you find a wizard dumb enough to collect an egg from that beast. Poor fella is still in St. Mungos."

"You _sell_ dragons?" Harry asked incredulously.

The shop owner laughed heartily and slapped Harry's shoulder, sending him forward a few steps. "Course not; Ministry'd be down my throat 'fore I could blink. This here's a Skye Dragon, the largest monitor lizard in the world. It's like 'em muggle lizards Komodo Dragons, but this one here is from the Isle of Skye up in Scotland."

Harry's interest was immediately piqued, "What's a Skye Dragon like?"

"Well," the shop keeper rubbed his chin, "this one here's female so she'll be a bit smaller than her male counterparts. I reckon with a good owner she'll grow to be at least eight foot and be somewhere around a hundred 'n eighty pounds."

Harry whistled in amazement, "That's _huge!"_

The shopkeeper laughed again, "Aye, they are vicious and protective and they grow to monsterously big. But they grow slow, a Skye Dragon has a life span of close to a hundred and fifty years easily and they don't grow to full length for at least fifteen years. I reckon if you bought this one – and took good care of it mind you – by the time you graduate Hogwarts she'd be about four and half, maybe five feet."

Harry looked at the cream colored egg that was spotted with flecks of black. A Skye Dragon sounded fascinating and he desperately wanted it. But what about Hogwarts? Would they let a Skye Dragon be his pet? It was certainly no toad. "Will Hogwarts allow a Skye Dragon?" Harry asked the shop keep.

"Difficult to say." The man answered, "Skye Dragons are highly venomous but generally mild tempered. They are a force to be reckoned with – their hide is highly resistant to spells – and in the wild they're known wizard killers. But in captivity they're generally peaceful.

"But Dumbledore's an understanding fella, has himself a beautiful Phoenix and just last year Gemma Farley bought one of my Egyptian Vipers and hasn't had no trouble. In fact she wrote me just the other day sayin' she needed a larger cage."

That made up Harry's mind, "Set me up with what I'll need then."

The shop keeper bustled about. He produced a large cage that was charmed to clean itself, a huge box of dried water buffalo jerky treats, and a water bowl. "This here is the basics but I warn ya now boy, that girl there is meant fer more 'an a cage. Skye Dragons meant to roam free."

Harry nodded and the shop keeper tossed a giant book on the pile. All together it cost Harry a healthy chunk of what was in his money pouch but his smile only grew as the shop keep lead him back towards the egg.

"Alright, 'is one hasn't hatched so yer in luck. Skye Dragon's bond with wizards magic while they're in the shell. So once you touch it keep it close till it hatches." Harry nodded and picked up the egg. It flashed a pale yellow light briefly before the egg grew warm in his hands.

"Thank you sir," Harry said as he held the egg close to him. "I'll take good care of her."


	4. Chapter 4

**_Author's Note: Last one for today as I'm off to class. Enjoy!_**

 ** _Little Gem_**

It was nearly dinner time when Harry was finally ready to have Milly take him to Potter Manor. Harry had stopped into the Leaky Cauldron briefly and told Tom the barkeep that he had finished his shopping early and wouldn't be staying. Then he had stepped into a muggle alley and called Milly. Travelling by elf was monumentally better than travelling by Apparition, Harry found. Not only was there no nausea but it was easier to keep his balance, which let Harry immediately take in his surroundings when they arrived.

Harry was once again shocked. Potter Manor was _huge._ The foyer with marble floors was tastefully decorated, it lead to two curved staircases – one on each side of the room – and between them led into a living room with a fireplace so large even the Dursley's could have fit inside it. Harry smiled at the fire inside it before Milly spoke.

"Welcome home Master, Milly be missin' you." The elf wiped away a tear and took Harry's free hand. "Milly be showing Master to his room to change for dinner."

Harry followed the elf up the left staircase and tried to remember where she led him and which rooms she pointed out but Harry could hardly keep up. The paintings on the walls _moved_ – they waved hello and greeted him enthusiastically – and there were statues that shifted into different positions. Harry was blown away as he followed Milly, trying to remember the important rooms like the Library and the Hall of Portraits so that he could explore them after dinner.

After a few minutes Harry was guided to huge double doors and Milly pushed them open to reveal an enormous bedroom that Harry was sure could fit most of the Dursley house inside. "This is bein Master's room." Milly said proudly. "Potter head gets biggest room."

Harry was in love with the room. There were large windows to the left that showed the grounds and a large barn. To the left of the windows were smaller glass double doors that opened up to a balcony. The bed was huge and made of dark wood; the bedding was blue and the pillows were gray. Next to the fireplace were two large bookshelves – his books already on the shelves to the right – and two large chairs to sit in though Harry much preferred the look of the soft rug on the floor.

Milly guided Harry to a large wardrobe and Harry carefully placed the egg on the bed before stripping down and – with the help of Milly – dressing in black and green robes. Dinner was an ordeal in itself, Milly and Jordey had taken the liberty of making Harry everything they could think of and had him try bites of everything to find out his favorites and which Harry discarded all together. Porridge, oatmeal, dragon liver, tomatoes were all chucked out while treacle tart, Caesar salad, honeydew melon, lasagna, and dragon berries were all added to the list of food that Harry would never object to.

Harry felt very, very fat when he was finally allowed to leave the table and he curled up with _Hogwarts, A History_ in front of the fire in his room with his egg on the rug next to him. Idly his fingers twirled the egg slowly as his eyes flew over the pages absorbing the information about Hogwarts, its houses, its founders, and some of the more famous legacies.

For hours Harry laid there and read by the light of the fire, feeling more content than he had ever felt. For the first time Harry felt at home and he couldn't wipe the smile from his lips. Finally, when Harry felt less like he was about to explode and he finished over half of Hogwarts, A History, he set the book down and took his egg exploring.

The first few rooms were bedrooms and while big they were nowhere near the size of Harry's which he figured to be the suite. Then Harry came upon another set of double doors and pushed them open. Inside was an incredibly large room with large portraits covering every inch of space he could see.

With wide eyes Harry stepped in and found himself being studied critically by a man with a mustache and hair that was as messy as Harry's was before he had grown it out. "Who are you?" The portrait asked with suspicious eyes.

Before Harry could answer a woman who had a beautiful smile and grey eyes entered the portrait – much to Harry's surprise – and scolded the man teasingly. "Oh Charlus don't frighten the poor boy he might never come back."

The woman turned to Harry and eyed him, "What's your name child? Where are your parents? Usually at least one parent is with the children the first time they enter the Hall."

"I'm Harry Potter," Harry answered, his throat suddenly wanting to close. "My parents died when I was one. I was raised by Muggles."

The woman gasped quietly and the man, Charlus, wrapped an arm around her. "Are you James and Lily's boy?"

Harry nodded and Charlus fully embraced the woman who was crying into his chest. "Shh, I know Dorea, I know. At least the boy is alive."

It was a very practical statement and Harry pondered on it, Charlus obviously cared a great deal about both the woman, Dorea, and the continuation of the Potter line. "How old is the Potter line?"

Dorea turned to Harry with a weepy smile, "Oh Charlus he's just like you, do you think he'll be a Ravenclaw?"

This caused Harry to grin, he rather liked what he read about Ravenclaw and he was almost positive that he'd enjoy it if he was sorted there. "The Potter line can be physically traced back all the way to 1100, where we started out as Peverells. We are the decedents of Ignotus Peverell and around 1500 we became the Potters."

Harry was dumbfounded for a moment as he grappled with such an extensive family tree. No wonder Charlus cared so much about it. "How are you two related to me?"

Dorea answered this time with a proud smile, "We are your grandparents. My name is Dorea Ursula Potter nee Black and this is Charlus Augustus Potter, were your father's parents."

With that Harry was whisked around the room by Dorea and Charlus gliding between frames and introducing Harry to his family. It was absolutely magical and Harry loved it. Harry was introduced to Wilfred III – had been on the Wimborne Wasps quidditch team and had died attempting a Wronski Feint, Mary and Simon – a Herbologist and a Potions Master, Gerald, Katarina – who had won an Order of Merlin First Class for her work on the addictive properties of Dreamless Sleep Potion, Gretchen and Hester – who were celebrated Alchemists, Harold and Griselda – who had been famous Philanthropists, Grayson and Catherine – both of whom had been proud supporters of muggle hunting and had actively participated in flooding the Wizengamot so as to halt all progress on banning the sport, and many more.

Every portrait in the hall seemed to come alive as Harry passed by and they told him brief snippets of their history and which family they had either married into or had come from before they were Potters. Harry now understood what Longfang had meant when he had said that wizarding families were interconnected. Names like Abbott, Black, Carrow, Fawley, Malfoy, and Prewitt came up repeatedly and there others like Rosier and Weasley that crept in once or twice. All of whom Harry learned where part of what was called the Sacred Twenty-Eight. These families were the last of the truly pureblooded families by 1930.

Harry also learned that whilst some families had long histories within one house at Hogwarts – Blacks were traditionally Slytherin while Abbotts tended to go toward Hufflepuff – the Potter house had always been a mixed family. Charlus had been a Ravenclaw while Dorea had been in Slytherin, Wilfred III had been in Hufflepuff, and James – Harry's father – had been in Gryffindor, while Grayson, Catherine, and Hester had been Slytherins.

Harry stayed in the Hall of Portraits learning stories of his ancestors who shared his knobby knees, bad eye sight, and untamable hair until he could hardly keep his eyes open. "Harry, have Milly take you bed dear. We aren't going anywhere." Dorea ordered, so Milly had ushered Harry to bed and he fell asleep as soon as his head hit the pillow – his egg lying on the sheets a few feet away.

The next morning Harry explored the large bathtub big enough to swim in and with bubbles that never seemed to dissappear, ate his first hearty breakfast, and then spent the rest of the morning in the Portrait Hall. Charlus taught him more about what being the Potter heir meant and Dorea with the help of Catherine taught him a few hexes should house rivalry be a problem at Hogwarts. The portraits were priceless to Harry; they were his family, his library, and his teachers.

Everyday Harry spent the morning with someone new, learning whatever they thought he should know, and asking every question he could think of. Afternoons were spent next to his egg in the massive Potter library reading his school books. Evenings were spent in Charlus' old study where he had a portrait frame he could travel to in order to teach Harry how to a pureblood heir and what it would mean when he turned seventeen and took up lordship. Harry also used this room to practice writing with a quill until his scrawl looked less like chicken scratch and more like pretty cursive letters.

Before Harry knew it two weeks had passed by and he felt completely at home amongst his family portraits and his house elves. But a Saturday brought forth a new surprise, Harry's Skye Dragon. Harry had been exploring the manor's attic – looking at a foe glass that curiously showed a man in purple robes and a turban reading a book called Maleficent Transformations – when his pocket started to move. Harry had been so surprised that he had jumped nearly a foot in the air.

Quickly Harry forgot about the foe glass and had raced to his bedroom. By the time Harry had sat down on the carpet in front of the fire and filled the water dish, one claw the size of his thumb broke through the shell. It only took a few minutes for the lizard to crack through the shell completely.

Harry had Milly bring several rabbits a few days before so that the Skye Dragon would have something to eat.

The lizard was beautiful, her skin was a dark green and her body was slender which gave her movements agility that Harry knew she'd lose when she grew. She let out a loud hiss as her tongue darted out, _Hungry,_ she said in heavily accented parseltongue and then she moved – fast as lightning – and sank her huge teeth into a rabbit. Harry grinned widely as the beautiful lizard began to eat the rabbit. She had _spoken_ and Harry had understood it!

Charlus had been awfully shocked to learn that Harry could speak to snakes; Parseltongue Harry had learned it was called, and had adamantly told Harry that no one in the Potter family had ever had the gift. He also stated in no uncertain terms that Harry was not to tell anyone of his gift because it was considered very dark. Harry was curious as to how he had gotten such a powerful ability but he couldn't even begin to theorize how it had happened so Harry decided to let it simmer on the back burner while he became accustomed to the magical world and got a grasp on the basics.

Harry was brought back to the present as the lizard's tongue flicked close to his face. _Hello,_ he tried and successfully said in parseltongue, _I'm Harry._

They hadn't been sure if lizards or dragons would be able to understand the snake language but Charlus and Harry both agreed that there was a good possibility since they were all distantly related to serpents.

 _Harry,_ her powerful legs pulled her closer and instead of letting those massive claws crawl on him, Harry shifted on to his stomach so that he was eye level with her. Her tongue flicked out several times, tasting the air around Harry and his breath. Then her mouth bumped Harry's cheek affectionately.

 _I've decided to name you Lorelei, do you like it?_

Lorelei's tongue tasted the air in rapid succession before her head nodded.

Over the next several days Harry never went anywhere without Lorelei. He found that she was just as eager and inquisitive about the world as he was. So during the afternoons when Harry wasn't studying his books he was exploring the grounds with his new friend.

Lorelei was fast and loved to run and climb trees. Harry, who was enjoying being outside and just _playing_ for the first time, was absolutely enthralled as Lorelei both learned and showed him how to climb and even taught him how to swim in the pond. Together they spent many hours swimming and diving for fish; when they were both sore and out of breath they'd lay in the warm grass and had Milly bring them lunch. Often times Harry would have the elf bring him a book as well and the two would lie in the grass and Harry would read while they sunbathed.

It was these adventures that led to Harry's discovery of a large game pitch with huge hoops on each end. Though what kind of game was played there he didn't know. They also found the stables to be empty but found odd looking saddles and brushes that looked like they were meant for horses. The last discovery was the most fun however, in a small shed not far from the game field Harry found brooms – and they flew! For hours Harry took to the skies, eager to both feel the wind in his hair and check out the landscape from the air. Harry flew in a giant circle for ages and all he could see for miles around were Potter grounds though far off in the distance to the East Harry could make out the outline of another large house.

Before Harry knew it, it was August 31st and the manor seemed more alive than ever. Harry had spent two hours searching the manor for every book he'd left lying around as Milly laundered his clothes and Jordey had disappeared hours ago to do who knew what. After several hours Harry's trunk was packed and his clothes for the next day were left out but Harry was wide awake. Milly had sealed the doors to his room at eleven when Harry had tried to sneak out to the Portrait Hall and now Harry was left with Lorelei who was curled up lazily on his bed.

 _You keep jostling the bed human,_ Lorelei complained as Harry rolled over once again.

 _I can't sleep._ Harry whispered as he turned over once again to face his familiar.

Lorelei's tongue tasted the air several times before she spoke, _You don't taste like fear._

 _I'm not scared,_ Harry scowled, _I'm excited – and nervous. The manor's become my home and now I have to leave. What if I don't like my house?_

 _Then I'll eat them._ Harry rolled his eyes fondly, that was _always_ her answer.

It wasn't until several hours later that Harry finally fell into a restless sleep. The next morning was even more hectic as Harry was eating breakfast. Every Portrait seemed to have some last bit of advice for Harry and they had taken to trying to cram into the single portrait frame in the dining hall. ' _Don't forget to say hello to Helena – Try not to upset Peeves – If you ever need an empty classroom the dungeons are full of them – Don't be afraid to ask questions, Professors love a student body they can interact with - The kitchens are near the Hufflepuffs, just follow one until you see a portrait of a bowl of fruit, tickle the pear –_ Harry eventually had to tune them out in order to finish his breakfast on time.

"Milly be missing Master," the house elf sniffed with large tears. From beside her Jordey nodded, his large ears flopping.

"Jordey made Master snacks for his trip," Jordey handed Harry a heavy basket and Harry couldn't help but smile fondly as the elf told him how the basket had a preservation charm on it.

With goodbyes said, Lorelei wrapped around his shoulders, and his trunk ready Milly disapparated. Platform 9 ¾ was nothing short of chaos. There were students of all years milling about and pets of all kinds darting frantically through the crowd. Mothers, fathers, and siblings were gathered round, some crying and some nearly green with envy. Harry smiled and turned back to Milly. "Thank you, I have it from here." With what looked like great reluctance Milly nodded and vanished.

Harry heaved a great sigh and his stomach erupted in butterflies. This was it; this giant gleaming train was taking him to Hogwarts! With a large grin Harry grabbed one side of his large trunk and began the painful process of trying to drag it over to the train.

"Oh hear dearie let me help you," Harry turned around and found an elderly woman with large dark eyes pulling her wand. She flicked it once and Harry's trunk began to hover before it zoomed to the train and joined the others.

"Thanks," the old woman merely waved him away and pointed her wand at the blonde girl's – who was standing next to her – trunk.

The train let loose a loud whistle and suddenly there was shouting and cries of _'Hurry now – I love you'._ The last part sliced through his happy mood because despite the family portraits at the manor they were only portraits of those who were actually dead. Harry would never have someone to send him off with love.

Shaking his head, Harry made his way quickly to the train. Inside students pushed and shoved past each other noisily. Much to Lorelei's displeasure Harry didn't immediately grab the first compartment. Instead he took his time as he observed older students in Hufflepuff colors grouping together. Eventually Hufflepuff colors gave way to the bright red and gold of Gryffindor students.

They were monstrously loud and one of them even had an impossibly large tarantula which made Harry feel better about having Lorelei. He was most definitely not the only one who had disregarded the pets rule. Some Hufflepuffs had Puffskeins, a first year with red hair had a rat, a girl in pigtails had a guinea pig, and then Harry found an older student with long blonde hair and Slytherin robes pinned with a Head Girl badge who had a snake lounging languidly on her wrist, its head resting near a very large diamond ring on her finger. No one seemed to give Harry's lizard a second glance.

"Gemma? Oi Farley! Over here!" The blonde Head Girl, Gemma Farley, shoved by Harry and went off towards a group of Slytherins that were just boarding the train.

Harry had just passed a compartment full of students in Ravenclaw robes when the compartment door slid open and the girl from Madam Malkin's appeared. "Nice to see you again, would you like to sit with us?"

"Sure," Harry said happily and slid into the somewhat cramped and noisy compartment. "I never did catch your name."

The girl smiled brightly, "I'm sorry that's terribly rude of me, I'm Mandy Brocklehurst. Who are you?"

"Harry Potter," he replied and almost instantly the other conversations in the compartment died.

Mandy seemed as stunned as the rest of the compartment but she managed to say, "Are you really?"

"Yeah, scar and all." Harry joked as he moved his hair aside and flashed his scar with a teasing grin.

"What house do you want to be in?" A very pretty girl with crimson hair and grey eyes asked.

"I'd like to try for Ravenclaw; it sounds like the best house for me." This garnered several large smiles and the girl held out her hand for Harry to shake.

"I'm Nanette Desford and these two," she pointed to the two girls on either side of her, "are Sophie Fawcett and Maria Glossop. Those two hooligans are Robert Hilliard and Jeremy Stretton," Nanette pointed to two boys who looked up from their game of tossing a magic spark back and forth to wave at Harry.

"It's nice to meet you all," Harry replied, before turning to Mandy. "Do you want to be a Ravenclaw as well?"

Mandy nodded, "Grandfather is a Ravenclaw and he's ever so clever, I'd like to take after him."

Just then the train lurched and Harry looked out the windows to find they were leaving the station. He couldn't stop smiling; he was on his way to Hogwarts! The students in the compartment melted into an easy and relaxed silence. Occasionally Robert and Jeremy would guffaw loudly or someone would have to dodge the spark the two boys were playing catch with but other than that Nanette and her friends seemed content to read.

Harry leaned toward Mandy, "So what's your grandfather do?"

Mandy looked hesitant to say which Harry found odd because she'd been so enthusiastic about her grandfather in Diagon Alley. "Oh, he's an entrepreneur."

Harry gave Mandy a look that said ' _I clearly know you're leaving things out'_ but at that moment the compartment door slid open and a girl in muggle clothes came bouncing in and fell into the lap of Jeremy Stretton. Harry nearly blushed when Jeremy kissed the girl full on the mouth.

"You will never believe what I just saw," the girl said to Nanette and her friends. "Gemma Farley and Grant Montague are engaged!"

"No," Nanette exclaimed loudly in disbelief. Harry watched in amusement as everyone except Mandy and himself leaned forward.

"There's no way," Sophie said with a disbelieving look. "Grant's always been head over heels for Imogen."

Jeremy who had previously been occupied with the girl in his lap looked up, "My sister would never consider him, Montague isn't intellectually stimulating enough. Imogen has her eyes on Cassius Warrington."

"Yeah," Robert agreed as he tossed the spark to Jeremy who caught it one handed. "But it is odd, how did Grant go from besotted to betrothed?"

"It's true," the girl insisted, "I saw them together and Grant even confirmed it."

The Ravenclaw students still seemed rather skeptical. "I saw her when I boarded the train," Harry chipped in, "the Slytherin Head Girl? She had a diamond ring."

"Who are you?" the girl asked as she turned in Jeremy's lap and leant back against the window. Harry wondered if Jeremy weren't really uncomfortable, he kept looking around as if he wished he were anywhere but in the compartment.

"Harry Potter."

The girl didn't seem to have much of a response other than to give him a thorough once over with her nose scrunched. "Ursula Penkridge."

"That doesn't make any sense!" Sophie cried in annoyance.

Ursula nodded in agreement, "I smell foul play."

Nanette seemed to think whatever Ursula meant was offensive because her cheeks went red and her eyes narrowed, "Gemma would never be so stupid. Love potions are easily detectable; they're only good for pranks and Muggles."

"You would think your first argument would be that they're morally wrong and basically rape." Robert shot back with a glower.

Nanette only flipped up her middle finger and rolled her eyes. "What if she didn't _buy_ a love potion," Sophie pondered out loud, pointedly ignoring Robert and Nanette. "What if she _made_ it?"

"Er- sorry," Harry broke in, "but what would be the difference?"

Sophie pushed her hair back and looked to Harry. "Some shops sell cheap little bottles of love potions that are used for pranks. They generally make you do stupid things like sing sonnets to the person the potion is keyed to or you'll find yourself thinking of the person when your mind drifts. But those love potions work like a charm, as in if you go to say something to the person when you open your mouth you don't say what you mean to say."

"They are not just _pranks_ ," Robert shot Sophie a scathing look and Harry felt as if he might have been dosed at one point. "but the ones you can only get by making are illegal. They infect you, make you lose all inhibitions. They only thing you see is that person; they become your reason for breathing."

"Which is why Gemma couldn't possibly have dosed Grant, it would way to _conspicuous."_ Nanette announced proudly as she crossed her arms.

"That's only some love potions," Maria chided Nanette softly, "There are others that have subtler symptoms. What if she used Amortentia?"

"I say we have look then," Nanette said, "See for ourselves if we can observe any symptoms of a love potion."

The group agreed and Harry watched in amusement as the upper year students left the compartment. Mandy looked at him and laughed, "So where've you been for the last ten years Harry? Were you really with muggles? What are they like?"

Harry bit his lip as he pondered on what to tell Mandy. He _could_ tell Mandy all about the Dursley's, but it seemed so – wrong, as if admitting it made it made him even more pathetic. Mandy wouldn't even tell him about her Grandfather. "Yeah, I grew up with my mum's sister's family." Harry replied hoping he succeeded in sounding happy.

Mandy's nose scrunched as she peered at Harry, looking for what he didn't know. Instead of allowing her to scrutinize him Harry shifted the conversation back to her, "So you Grandfather owns a shop right? You said in Diagon Alley that you wanted to take over it?"

"Yes," she replied looking distinctly uncomfortable, "Grandfather co-owns a shop that deals in magical books and artifacts."

"Well what kind of books and artifacts?" Harry pressed on taking a certain glee in the girl's pained look.

Harry very much wanted to know why she all of the sudden seemed so tight lipped. "Well all kinds really."

"What's the name of the shop maybe I've heard of it?"

Mandy suddenly stood up and said, "I have to go to the lavatory." With that she too left the compartment and Harry raised an eyebrow at the door that closed behind her.

 _What is wrong with her?_

 _I have no idea,_ Harry replied. _Are you hungry I'm going to read a bit but Jordey packed deer meat for you._

Lorelei hissed in glee and Harry smiled fondly. Once she was on the seat next to him he pulled the bag of raw meat out of the basket and opened it for her. Picking up a piece of Drooble's Best Blowing Gum for himself, Harry happily smacked away as he started chapter four of _The Darkest Wizard in History_. The group of older Ravenclaws never made it back to the compartment and neither did Mandy. By the time the sun set the only visitor Harry had was a bushy haired girl named Hermione Granger who was looking for Neville Longbottom's toad. She had been particularly upset when Harry had told her it was probably better for Neville to lose the toad and she hadn't come back.


	5. Chapter 5

_**Author's Note: Hope you enjoy, let me know what you think in a review!**_

 _ **P.S. Sorry about any grammatical errors, this story doesn't have a beta.**_

 _ **Little Gem**_

It was nightfall when the Hogwarts Express pulled into the Hogsmeade station. Harry was beyond anxious as a giant of a man called all the first years together. Harry had to push through a crowd of older students who were headed towards carriages that pulled themselves to make it to the other first years. When they had all lined up the giant had led them from the platform and down a steep, narrow path. It was so dark on both sides that nobody spoke a word and put their full concentration into where there feet fell.

"Yeh'll get yer firs' sight o' Hogwarts in a sec," the giant man called in a booming voice over his shoulder, "jus' round this bend here."

At the exact moment Harry looked up there was a loud "Ooooh!" from the group of first years. Harry felt his mouth drop open in shock. The narrow path had opened up to the edge of a great black lake. Perched on top of a high mountain on the other side was a huge castle alight in an orange glow, its towers and turrets so high that they seemed to melt into the starry sky.

"Now now more'n four to a boat!"

Harry could barely tear his eyes away long enough to get situated in boat and he didn't look at who joined him. The only thing Harry could think of were the facts that he had read rolling through his mind in awe. _Seven stories and a hundred and forty-two stair moving staircases – built in 993 AD – designed by an unknown magical architect and Rowena Ravenclaw – built by the four founders – all magic cast within the castle's ground creates a magical atmosphere that destroys technology – said to house more secret rooms and pathways than any other castle ever built –_

Suddenly Harry couldn't wait until he was free to explore the castle. He didn't mind if he were sorted into Hufflepuff or Gryffindor, he'd suffer through so long as he was free to map out the ever changing castle and discover its secrets.

The boats pulled themselves after the large man in a boat to himself yelled, "FORWARD!" Harry was pulled away from shore.

Harry couldn't tear his eyes away from the castle as the boats pulled them forward. With every foot the castle grew impossibly larger and Harry's heartbeat grew louder. After a few minutes the boats pulled ashore and the students clambered out with their necks craned, almost unable to stop staring at Hogwarts.

They were lead up a large lawn that was slick and in some parts muddy much to several students chagrin. One boy in particular, a thin pointed face boy with hair so blonde it was almost white, was particularly vocal about his new dragonhide boots getting dirty. Though Harry didn't say so out loud he had the same concern, he had just purchased his new boots and cloak and now they had mud on them.

But all grievances were forgotten when they stopped in front of a huge wooden door and the large man knocked – a great thundering sound that was similar to canon blasts – three times. The doors opened and Harry smiled when he saw Professor McGonagall standing there in emerald robes and a black witche's hat.

"The firs' years," Hagrid said proudly.

"Thank you Hagrid," Professor McGonagall replied, "I will take them from here."

McGonagall led them into an entrance hall so big that Harry had to turn his head to take it all in. The stone walls were lit and the only thing in the giant hall was a massive staircase that lead to the upper floors. Instead of waiting here however, Harry and the group were led into yet another room. This antechamber was smaller and they had to squish together to fit inside.

 _"Welcome to Hogwarts," Professor McGonagall called loudly from atop a small set of stairs, "The start of term banquet will begin shortly but before you can take your seats in the Great Hall, you will be sorted into your houses. The Sorting is very important because while you are here your house will be like your family within Hogwarts. You will have classes with the rest of your house, sleep in your house dormitory, and spend free time in your house common room._

 _The four houses are called Gryffindor, Hufflepuff, Ravenclaw, and Slytherin. Each house has its own noble history and each has produced outstanding witches and wizards. While you are at Hogwarts your triumphs will earn you house points while any rule breaking will lose house points. At the end of the year, the house with the most points is awarded the house cup, a great honor. I hope each of you will be a credit to whichever house becomes yours._

 _The Sorting Ceremony will take place in a few minutes in front of the rest of the school. I suggest you smarten yourselves up as much as you can while you are waiting. I will return when we are ready for you. Please wait quietly." – SS, 114._

Harry ran a sweaty hand through his hair, making sure nothing was sticking up wrong. He watched one girl with bushy brown hair mutter to herself about every spell she had learned while a boy next to her fidgeted with his cloak that was fastened wrong. The blonde boy was trying to scrape mud off his boots using the wall and a red head was looking like he might faint and was whispering about fighting a troll.

This made Harry roll his eyes because honestly, they were being sorted not killed. Harry was more eager than nervous; he was excited to both be sorted and witness the process. Supposedly the Sorting Hat could see into your head and Harry very much wanted to know what kind of magic could enchant a hat to peer into your mind.

McGonagall came back not long after ghosts floated through the chamber above their heads. "We are ready for you now, follow me."

The group of forty or so first years was lead into the Great Hall and it took his breath away. The cavernous room seemed to open up to heavens, the long four tables were packed with students trimmed in green, blue, yellow, or red; sitting on a raised part of the hall were teachers in their high backed chairs, and the banners that hung in the air had large Hogwarts emblems. Harry took it all in with a sense of wonder and then his eyes found Professor McGonagall who held a roll of parchment, beside her was a three legged stool with a very old, dirty hat sitting upon it.

The students were ushered forward and Harry could feel the eyes in the hall roaming over him. "When I call your name you will sit and I will place the Sorting Hat upon your head." Professor McGonagall instructed after the Sorting Hat finished its song about Hogwarts and without further ado she opened the rolled up parchment.

"Abbott, Hannah!"

Harry watched as a pink faced girl with blonde pigtails stumbled forward. The hat fell over her eyes and after a moment's pause it yelled, " _HUFFLEPUFF!"_ The table to the right exploded in cheers and the girl ran to join her house.

"Bones, Susan!"

 _"HUFFLEPUFF!"_ The hat cried out again much to the girl's obvious relief.

"Boot, Terry!"

" _RAVENCLAW!"_ Harry watched the second table from the left erupt into cheers and he felt his pulse quicken.

 _"_ Brocklehurst, Mandy!" Mandy stepped forward with a look of determination and once the hat covered her eyes Harry watched her smile brightly before –

" _RAVENCLAW!"_ Harry found himself clapping for her as she skipped her way to the table.

"Brown, Lavendar!"

" _GRYFFINDOR!"_

The names kept going but Harry found his gaze wandering past the sorting ceremony to familiar purple robes and a turban. Harry tensed as he watched the timid looking man clap softly for each student that was sorted. He didn't look evil or as if he were plotting Harry's doom; so why would a foe glass show him to Harry? He continued to stare at the man in contemplation; the professor had non-descript features…muddy brown eyes, thin face, and straight nose - there was nothing remarkable about him at all. He looked utterly ordinary, forgettable.

Until he looked at Harry.

Brown eyes met emerald and Harry felt his scar prickle for the first time in his life. Almost as if the cavernous room had caved in around him, Harry found himself feeling cramped and unable to breathe. The sound of cheering faded away and Harry couldn't tear his eyes away from those muddy brown ones. Even though they were so ordinary they held something so striking that they held Harry captive.

Then the professor looked away and room exploded into noise just in time for Harry to hear Professor McGonagall call, "Potter, Harry."

Harry gulped loudly as he slowly stepped forward. He bit his lip as he sat down and he could hear the whispers about the Boy-Who-Lived as the Professor placed the hat on his head. The Great Hall vanished and Harry nearly jumped when he heard a voice in his mind that wasn't his own.

 _"Hmmm, difficult_." It whispered in his mind.

 _"Can you hear me?"_ Harry thought toward the hat.

The hat chuckled, " _Of course I can Mr. Potter, I am inside your mind."_

 _"How are you inside of my mind? What magic is that called? And how are you talking without someone controlling you, are you –"_

 _"Perhaps this isn't such a difficult decision after all,"_ The hat teased. " _You have a desperate thirst for knowledge Mr. Potter, yet you are so very cunning and resourceful. You would do well in either Ravenclaw or Slytherin."_

Harry felt a little stunned, he hadn't thought of Slytherin for himself. " _The talent…"_ The hat continued in contemplation, " _Oh yes, you have so much talent. But where to put you?"_

 _"Are you really not going to tell me how it is you're inside my mind?"_ Harry persisted while the hat contemplated. He wasn't too worried because either house sounded fine for him.

Once again the hat laughed, " _It's not Legillimancy, don't worry."_ Harry caught on to that like a life line and made a promise to research it as soon as he could. Reading minds was _powerful_ , the brain was the single most complicated organ in the body and learning to read it could quite possibly lead to a greater understanding of how it functioned.

 _"Ah greater understanding,"_ The hat repeated, _"Mr. Potter you were tricky but I see it now… you crave knowledge intrinsically first and foremost, unafraid to use it when necessary. That is why you will be great in –_

 _"RAVENCLAW!"_

The Great Hall exploded into cheers and Harry smiled brightly as Professor McGonagall took the hat off his head. Happily he joined the Ravenclaw table, taking a seat near Nanette who was the first to congratulate him. Sophie was next to shake his hand, followed by Maria, a girl named Penelope, Mandy, Jeremy, and then Robert who turned out to be Head Boy.

Ravenclaw table was abuzz with conversation as soon as the table filled with food, after Dumbledore's odd words of welcome. Maria and Penelope seemed to have picked up an argument from earlier and were heatedly discussing something called Gamp's Second Law, which apparently stated that you couldn't manufacture love. Apparently they were still discussing Gemma Farley's engagement to Grant Montague.

Further down Mandy was in conversation with Terry Boot about the enchanted ceiling and how it was apparently different from the one at the Ministry of Magic. The one in the Great Hall was enchanted to show the weather and how the sky changed and the one at the Ministry was enchanted to just show night or day – but always clear skies. Harry had to admit that it was impressive and he couldn't help but wonder how it was done.

Harry turned to Nanette as he gathered food on his plate. The crimson haired girl was idly playing with her food and humming a song Harry had never heard. "What's being a Ravenclaw like?"

For a second she eyed him funnily but then she said, "Freeing."

"How so?"

"There are a lot of stigmas that play into the houses," Nanette said as she sipped from her goblet, "Gryffindors are supposed to be courageous and strong, but also prejudiced against anything that seems morally ambiguous. Slytherins are supposed to love everything evil and so are watched with suspicion. Then Hufflepuffs are supposed to be a lot of duffers, which I tell you isn't true.

"But Ravenclaws? Some might think us cold, callous, or stuck up but we're known to be smart, clever, eccentric, and all around scholars. We are accepted by every house and we are free to blend into the background and study wherever our curious minds take us."

Harry pondered this as Nanette fell silent. It almost sounded as if Nanette was saying that there were things that weren't allowed to be studied, but Harry brushed away the thought. How could someone ban knowledge? He figured she meant that Ravenclaws were generally left alone in their endeavors and solitude was great, having to explain things to others while your brain was racing forward by leaps and bounds was always an annoyance.

"How is it the food just appeared on the table?" Harry watched Nanette smile as if she were expecting the bombardment of questions. "Surely you can't just wave a wand and have all of this _cooked_ food appear; I mean there are at least four hundred people here!"

"Of course not," Nanette agreed, "I'll lend you a book about Gamp's Laws of Elemental Transfiguration once we get back to the common room. The short answer though, is that Hogwarts employs somewhere around a hundred house elves who make the food and when we're ready send it to the table."

Harry almost felt bad about asking all these questions that plagued him but Nanette's smile never faltered. Eventually Harry asked the one that had been eating at him, "Who's that professor in the purple robes?"

"Oh that's Professor Quirrell, he'll be our new Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher." Harry's gaze wandered from Nanette to Professor Quirrell. Almost as if he had felt Harry's scrutiny his brown eyes looked up and caught Harry's gaze. Harry quickly looked back down to his plate.

When everyone had eaten as much as they could Dumbledore had the whole Great Hall sing the school song. When the last of the song had finished, two red haired boys had drawn it out painfully slow, Dumbledore spoke again and Harry watched the man who had placed him with the Dursley's with narrowed eyes. "Now, a few announcements before we send you to your dormitories.

"First years should note that the forest on the grounds is forbidden to all pupils. And a few of our older students would do well to remember that as well." Harry watched as the headmaster looked over to the Gryffindor table. "I have also been asked by Mr. Filch, the caretaker, to remind you all that no magic should be used in the hallways."

"Don't worry," Nanette whispered conspiratorially to Harry, "no one ever follows that rule."

Harry smiled at her and Dumbledore continued, "Quidditch trials will be held in the second week of term. Anyone interested in playing for their house team should contact Madam Hooch.

"And finally, I must tell you that this year, the third floor corridor on the right hand side is out of bounds to all who do not wish to die a most painful death." Harry's eyes widened and he watched Nanette's mouth drop open.

"He's serious?" he asked in disbelief.

With a crease between her brows she answered, "Must be. Usually he at least gives us a reason for why we aren't allowed somewhere."

"Now, off you trot!" With that the students were dismissed and the headmaster sat back down watching them.

Immediately Robert Hilliard stood and called the first years to him as the upper years disappeared. "I'll meet you in the common room yeah?" Nanette asked in parting then disappeared before Harry could respond.

The other first years looked miserable as Robert led them through corridors, up flights of stairs that had steps you had to jump over, through a tapestry of Marigold the Martyr, and up several more flights of stairs. "Just a little farther," Robert assured them. He didn't say much other than a random tidbit of knowledge here or there, he seemed to know how miserable it was to walk so far when you were so full.

"Why do they call them common rooms if only people from a certain house can go in them? Doesn't that make them uncommon?" Terry Boot asked as they climbed.

"No," Robert replied, "because Hogwarts has no rule on who can enter the common rooms. As long as you know _how_ to enter then you're free to do so. It's not so common for other houses because they have passwords that change periodically, but it is common to see a clever Slytherin or Hufflepuff in our common room because we have a different way to enter our common room."

"Well how do we enter?" Padma Patil asked.

"You'll see."

At last they came to the base of a round tower and began their trek up the rounded staircase. When they reached the top Harry stopped with the others in front of a large wooden door with no doorknob or keyhole. There was only a bronze knocker in the shape of an eagle.

For a second every first year waited for Robert to do some kind of trick for the door to open, but then the knocker _moved._ It seemed to shake itself awake and Harry watched, fascinated, that then gave a yawn and said, "Where is the line between creativity and insanity?"

Robert turned to the first years with a smirk, "Alright you bunch, in order to get into the common room you have to correctly answer the riddle. Good Luck." Then he leaned back against the wall and crossed his arms.

As tired as they all were, no one seemed upset. Every face looked eager and whispers started.

"Creativity is a positive trait and insanity is a negative one." Someone said, though Harry couldn't tell who.

"No, no that's not it. Creativity is about making things, art if you will, but insanity is more about the destruction of things." Su Li said with a hopeful look. The bronze knocker didn't respond and so the first years began to theorize.

"Aren't they the same thing?" Harry asked and Mandy nodded excitedly.

"Harry's right they are the same thing, they both describe what a normal person wouldn't think of. They just have different connotations."

Michael Corner broke in this time, "But that's not the only reason they're the same, both are subjective ideas."

"By nature neither can be clearly defined," Harry said and he could feel himself grinning, "so there is really no line between the two."

"Rather than being separate," Padma continued, "the two are intertwined and complement one another."

Every head looked to the bronze knocker and Harry felt great relief when it said, "A wise answer." With that the door swung open and Robert led them inside.

"Good job!" Robert praised but it was lost on the wonder of the common room.

Ravenclaw common room was a giant circular room the cream colored walls, cathedral like windows, and a second story balcony where giant bookcases were stored. Giant blue curtains hung from the walls, there was a giant white marble statue that stood at the entrance of a library on the other side of the common room, and the ceiling was painted to look like the night's sky. There were blue carpeted floors and comfortable looking chairs everywhere. To the left there was a giant notice board and beside that was an even bigger chalk board which had, "Is conception under Polyjuice Potion possible?" written at the top in loopy cursive. In the back half of the room there was another, smaller, chalkboard with a few equations Harry couldn't understand on it. Next to that chalkboard was a giant black piano.

Harry couldn't help but fall in love with the enormous, lofty common room. It reminded him of what Nanette had said earlier about how being a Ravenclaw was freeing; the whole common room gave you the impression of personal space and freedom. The giant windows that looked down on all of Hogwarts seemed more than beautiful to Harry, they seemed almost metaphorical. He loved to explore, to broaden his perspective, and he loathed being hindered from that. The view of the Hogwarts grounds were as unhindered as they were vast.

Robert cleared his throat and Harry's focus snapped back to the Head Boy. Behind Robert were Nanette, Jeremy, Penelope, and two others Harry didn't recognize. "I'm Head Boy, Robert Hilliard. These are Prefects Nanette Desford, Jeremy Stretton, Penelope Clearwater, Duncan Inglebee, and Megan Davis.

"We all are delighted to welcome you to Ravenclaw, the house that soars where others cannot climb. We are the clever and the voracious. Here you are encouraged to follow any and all of your intellectual pursuits wherever they may lead you, no matter how unorthodox they may be. You will always find someone to help you uncover the mysteries of Alomancy or to debate the ethics of Love Potions." Harry laughed quietly as Robert gave a long look to Nanette and Jeremy.

"There is no judgement here no matter your scholarly interest or eccentric habits, so we ask that you give your peers the same courtesy. Speaking of eccentrics, you will notice our Head of House, Professor Flitwick, is particularly tiny. If you ever need anything or are finding yourself overwhelmed, he will always be there to guide you to answers or charm cupcakes to dance for you. I highly recommend you see the performance, it's highly entertaining.

"With all that said I have only one more thing to discuss before we show you to your dorms. Tomorrow morning before breakfast, most of us are down here around six-thirty; the six of us will be here to teach you the three spells every Ravenclaw must know. It's not mandatory, so if you want to sleep in your more than free to, but if you do want to learn a few charms to make your life easier then meet us down here."

With that Robert lead the group of curious students through a door behind the statue of Rowena Ravenclaw and into the turrets that held the different dorms. Nanette caught Harry briefly and slipped him a book called _Gamp's Laws: Elemental Transfiguration_. Which left Harry wondering if Gamp had made other laws not regarding elemental transfiguration.

Harry wished he had more energy to take in his large dormitory that held five absolutely huge loft beds made from dark polished wood. The beds themselves were adorned in sky blue silk sheets and thick blue cotton comforters. Underneath the beds were corner bookshelves where they could store their personal books and a large dresser where they could keep their robes. To the side of each bed was a desk and rolling chair. Harry spotted his trunk at the foot of a loft bed across the room and quickly made his way over, smiling when he saw Lorelei in her tank on top of his dresser.

 _I never want to be in here again,_ she hissed angrily at him.

Harry laughed quietly and promised he'd find a way to make her more comfortable in the morning. The boys didn't say much to each other, all too tired and wanting to sleep. So Harry changed into his pajamas and crawled up the ladder and into his bed with Lorelei.

 _Good night,_ he whispered quietly and then he was out.


	6. Chapter 6

**_Author's Note: Raingirl4513 - I love that you like my take on Ravenclaw, but I have to confess I am a Slytherin as sorted by Pottermore._**

 ** _Little Gem_**

The next morning Harry rose before all the rest of the boys in his dorm, eager to start learning from the older students. He changed quickly and left Lorelei to explore with explicit instructions that she was not to hurt a single person. The basket from Jordey with snacks was beside Lorelei's cage and Harry grabbed an apple before making his way to the common room, the other boys just beginning to stir.

"Morning Nanette," Harry called cheerfully.

She was nursing a steaming cup of coffee but smiled at him, "Morning Harry. Ready to start?"

"Actually I have a question first," Harry sat down next to her and tossed his apple core into a waste bin, "Can you transfigure glass into stone?"

"Of course, what do you need transfigured?"

"My lizard's cage, she hates it. I think she'd prefer a warm rock to lie on."

Nanette smiled and waved her hand, "That's easy; I'll do it right before we leave for breakfast. Now get out your wand."

Harry complied and unsheathed his wand, eager to see what she would teach him. "First we'll start with the Heating Charm. The tower has no fireplaces because the sheer amount of parchment and books lying around. In the winter it can get quite cold if we don't insulate ourselves with heating charms.

"Now the incantation is _Caloram_ and it's just a simple swish of the wand, like this," Nanette swished her wand and without saying anything the shirt Harry was wearing started to grow warm.

Harry grinned and pointed his wand at Nanette's shirt but she stopped him, "I don't think so. You may have slaughtered a dark lord but you will not be setting me on fire. Practice on that cushion." Harry scowled at the mention of Voldemort but turned to the cushion.

By the time Stephen, Terry, and Michael made it down – Anthony Goldstein had decided to sleep in – Harry had mastered the heating charm and was working on the second, the Silencing Charm. Nanette had eagerly turned the cushion Harry had been practicing on into a large, squawking bird and was told to practice. Apparently the wind could get very loud and this was an easy way to quiet the noise.

Harry had just gotten the hang of the Silencing Charm when the girls; Padma, Mandy, Lisa, Su, and Morag joined the common room. Terry had managed to make half of his cushion warm but Michael had set the table on fire, much to their amusement.

The next spell Nanette taught Harry was the Impervious Charm. By this time everyone was sitting together in a large circle. Harry flew by the others in terms of how long it took to master the charms. They were relatively easy ones that the Prefects taught _every_ year but Harry was excited to see the envy on his fellow first year's faces, especially when he managed to make a _Magical Theory_ text book completely impervious to Nanette's coffee.

"Good job Harry," Nanette praised with a pleased smile. "I've never seen someone master all three before breakfast, though I did manage two."

Harry grinned maniacally, he absolutely _loved_ Charms.

As she had promised Nanette made quick work of turning the glass cage into a large flat rock. Harry even put a Warming Charm on it just to spoil Lorelei.

Harry had no idea what classes he'd have today so he grabbed his bag and all of his school texts, plenty of parchment, two quills, two ink pots, and some snacks all the while smiling darkly when it never got an ounce heavier. It had been well worth the extra few galleons for the Feather-light Charm.

The Great Hall was about a quarter full when Harry and Nanette made it down. Breakfast had just been served and the two sat down together. "I can't believe you managed to master all three charms." She said this so casually as she filled her plate with eggs that Harry wondered if he'd only imagined she spoke at all. But then she looked at him with curious eyes and he knew he hadn't.

"Er – well they weren't difficult." Harry said as he averted his eyes and scooped up some eggs and bacon.

"Hey it's not a bad thing; if you got it flaunt it. Just make sure that if you get bored in Charms to ask Professor Flitwick –"

"Ask me what?" Both Harry and Nanette turned around. Professor Flitwick was no more than four feet tall and had dark hair and a nose that reminded Harry of a Goblin's.

"Harry already mastered all the charms we went over this morning." Professor Flitwick looked to Harry and smiled almost gleefully.

"Taking after your mother, Mr. Potter? She too excelled in charms. Oh she even spent breakfast looking through her text book – managed to mend a friend of hers robe on the second day." Professor Flitwick was almost rocking in excitement as he said this. "I do recommend you self- study Mr. Potter, and should the work become too easy for you I have plenty more. So many charms you can never master them all!"

He laughed and then handed them each a schedule, "See you in class!" Then he was gone and Harry was left looking at his time table. All first year Ravenclaws had Defense Against the Dark Arts first then Charms which was followed by a lunch break. Both DADA and Charms would be with Hufflepuff.

At the end of Breakfast Nanette led all the first years to the Defense Against the Dark Arts on the second floor. The classroom was bright and airy. There were two large chalkboards on top of a small set of stairs and a bird perch off in the corner. Other than that the room was sparsely decorated, with only a desk and chair for the Professor. The Hufflepuffs arrived at the same time and Harry fought to get a chair next to Terry Boot in the front row.

It seemed that everyone was eager for their first class. Harry had his book out, his parchment ready, and his ink well unscrewed; ready and waiting for the Professor.

"Do you think we'll learn any hexes?" Terry whispered anxiously from beside Harry.

"I don't think so," Harry replied, "But we do learn the Curse of the Bogies and it's fantastic." Both boys grinned and Harry couldn't help but laugh when he pictured Petunia with giant bats flying out of her nostrils.

Professor Quirrell came in a few minutes later and the class fell quiet instantly. "G-Good morning students." The professor's voice wavered as if he were scared to address them. "Wel-Welcome to Defense A-Against the Dark Arts. Y-Yes M-Miss?"

"Patil sir," Padma answered and Harry turned around and looked at her for a moment. "Sorry to interrupt you sir but what _are_ the Dark Arts? I've looked everywhere in our textbook but it doesn't expressly define how exactly a Dark Spell is different from a normal spell."

Harry's head whipped back to Professor Quirrell, eagerly waiting for his reply. For a moment he looked like he might be sick but then his face went calm. "D-Do any of you know?"

Nobody moved and Professor Quirrell seemed like he wanted to sigh. "Some magic," He began and grabbed some chalk, "is fueled by emotion. Can anyone give me examples of this?"

Harry raised his hand quickly feeling utterly joyful that he could give an example and raise his hand. This was the first time his academics had no limit, there were no Dursley's here. "Yes, Mr. - ?"

"Potter, sir." Harry replied almost giddily. "And the Unforgivables are based off emotion."

The class, which had been quiet before, was now deafeningly so. Every eye seemed to snap to Harry and even Professor Quirrell looked surprised. Was he not supposed to talk about those or something? Harry looked around confused. "What?"

"Would you care to elaborate, Mr. Potter?" Professor Quirrell asked as he studied Harry intently.

"Erm, well the Cruciatus Curse is base off your cruelty. The Killing Curse is based off your hatred and the Imperius Curse is fueled by determination – your will against your opponents." Harry turned when a Hufflepuff squeaked loudly and he found the boy staring at him in utter horror.

"What?" Harry asked the boy, "I was curious why I was famous and someone explained the Unforgivables to me to help me realize why you all think I should be famous." Catherine Potter nee Malfoy had gone into depth about each Unforgivable and how they worked when they had spoken about how he could have possibly survived the Killing Curse.

That seemed to put the Hufflepuffs at ease but his fellow Ravenclaws were looking at him still, as if he had impressed them.

"Ten points, Mr. Potter, to Ravenclaw." Professor Quirrell said with a small smile. Harry nearly beamed.

"Now the Unforgivables are not the only emotion fueled magic," With that the Professor turned to write on the blackboard. "The Patronus Charm is also based on emotion, on happiness. The Charm uses pure happiness to ward off Dementors. There is also the Fidelius Charm which uses a sense of pure trust to cast, to hide the secret which is being hidden inside the secret keeper.

"Now, Dark Magic is all magic – like the Unforgivables – that uses negative emotion to cast. Conversely, Light magic is all magic which uses positive emotion – like the Patronus Charm – to cast."

"But how does that make sense Professor?" Harry asked suddenly and he realized he forgot to raise his hand.

Professor Quirrell didn't seem to mind that Harry interrupted and he motioned for Harry to continue, "It's just – if Dark and Light magic are based off emotion then why is only Dark Magic banned?"

"Why is Dark Magic banned at all?" Terry asked from beside Harry.

"Dark Magic is banned because not only does it have a tendency to be very dangerous but studies have shown that prolonged exposure to extreme levels of negative emotions were damaging for the psyche." Professor Quirrell explained but this only made the students, Harry in particular, even more curious.

"Well obviously experiencing nothing but negative emotion for an extended period of time is bad," Padma Patil exclaimed, "but that doesn't mean it should all be banned. What if some of it was helpful?"

"No way," Susan Bones from Hufflepuff said loudly with pink cheeks, "There is no way anything based off of such negative emotion is good."

"What about fear or anger?" Harry asked her. "Would you want to defend yourself if you couldn't feel fear or anger?"

"Logic would tell you to defend yourself," Michael Corner called out from the back, "You wouldn't actually need fear or anger. I'd actually go so far as to say they only serve to cloud your judgement, I'd prefer to be level headed when I fight."

No one said anything for a moment after that but Harry found Terry looking at him, urging him debate. Not one to throw away the opportunity to have some fun Harry spoke up. "Fear and anger are natural bodily responses to outside stimuli. Take fear for example, it sets your body into the fight or flight response – which is like super human mode. That's when your heart rate rises and adrenaline courses through your system. Those things are positive responses from 'negative' emotions. They'll help you fight and protect yourself better."

"Well," Mandy called out, "in that case it's safe to say that negative emotions are necessary both to our survival and to our mental health. We need the entire range of emotion to view the world and deal with our experiences. So, shouldn't we - if we need both positive and negative emotion – also need both Light and Dark Magic?"

Murmurs spread throughout the small classroom and Professor Quirrell seemed immensely happy that the class was fully engaged and even debating amongst themselves.

"Light magic doesn't hurt people," Su Li said over the murmur of voices. "Dark Magic is banned because it harms other."

Harry jumped at this one, "That makes no sense. Next class we have is charms where we'll be covering the Hovering Charm. I could use the same charm on you so that you'd fly off the side of a cliff and you would be harmed, does that make it dark?"

"But Dark Arts generally have only one purpose, don't they, Professor?" Su Li asked as she glared at Harry.

"Why don't one of you try to come up with a practical use for – let's say one of the Unforgivables?" Professor Quirrell instructed the class who immediately began to murmur amongst themselves.

Padma Patil's hand shot into the air and she said, "The Killing Curse is said to be an instantaneous death, so no pain right? That could be used medically."

"Five points to Ravenclaw Miss Patil." Professor Quirrell praised and the girl's brown cheeks grew darker. "Now all of you have brought up excellent points. However, the Ministry has decided that magic labelled Dark has risks that far outweigh their benefit.

"Now that we know what Dark Magic is, this class is designed to teach you to defend yourself against witches and wizards who choose to break the law and practice it anyway."

The rest of Defense Against the Dark Arts or what little was left of it was spent taking down notes on all things labeled 'Dark'; from creatures to spells to artifacts. By the time Harry had arrived in the Great Hall for lunch, after Charms, word had spread all over the castle about the DADA debate and Harry was no longer the object of pointing and staring. The other first year Ravenclaws were scrunched together at the end of the table and Harry sat himself farther down. He could hear them whispering, _'No no, that's labelled dark too – that could be used to stop something that's too big for you to fight! – Oh don't be thick Su, I think magic should be free to study –_

After lunch first years had a free period and so Harry made his way to the third floor and found the library with a huge smile. The library was just about the size of the Great Hall and it had one absolutely enormous stained glass window along the far wall. Shelves lined every inch of wall and were packed full of leather bound books. Just the sight of it made Harry joyous. There had to be tens of thousands of books.

Before he went to explore however, Harry made his way to the desk where a large plaque read ' _Madam Irma Pince, Librarian'._ Madam Pince was behind the large oak desk that was piled high with books she seemed to be performing magic on. "Excuse me," Harry said as the sharp grey eyes of the librarian snapped up to his, "I'm Harry Potter." He held his hand out for her to shake but Madam Pince made no move to take it.

"You look like your father," She snapped, "and if you act like him in here I will throw you out by the scruff of your neck."

Harry's eyes widened and he had to stifle a laugh, "I promise I'm well behaved, I was wondering if you could show me how the library is organized? Do you follow the Dewey Decimal system or – "

"Of course we don't." Madam Pince said as she moved to come around the side of the desk. "Each section has a sign where it begins and ends," Harry followed to where she pointed and found a sign at the top of a bookcase that said, ' _Transfiguration'._ "All non-restricted books on core classes are found here on the bottom floor as well as Flying, Invisibility, Dragons, Magical Law, and the Reference sections.

"The Restricted Section is also found on this level near my desk, you may _only_ enter with a signed note from a Professor and you may _only_ check out books with a different signed note." Madam Pince turned to Harry and looked at him long and hard. "Anyone caught in the Restricted Section unauthorized or defacing a book will be punished to the fullest extent that I am allowed.

"Do you understand?"

Harry nodded and flashed the librarian a smile, "Of course, I'd never do that."

Madam Pince looked as though she wanted to believe Harry but knew better. "Well then, over here is the staircase to the second level of the library which houses all non-restricted book on the elective subjects you can take in third year as well as sections on Wards, Curses, Offensive Dueling Magic, Mind Magic – " Harry perked up at this, " – Alchemy, Banking, Cooking, Healing, and Music."

Harry was nearly ready to run up the stairs when Madam Pince stopped him, "As a Ravenclaw I expect a higher level of care for the library Mr. Potter, do not make me throw you out because I won't let you come back."

With that Madam Pince hurried back to her desk and Harry took to the stairs, two at a time. For two hours Harry browsed Wards, Mind Magic, Healing, and Curses. Madam Pince looked like she was fighting an amused smile when she saw Harry making his way to her desk with an armful of books. "You do realize you can only have books checked out for two weeks, don't you Mr. Potter?"

"Of course," Harry said as he carefully set his books on the counter, "That's why I only limited myself to five."

Madam Pince gave a small approving smile and set about checking out each book. Harry had picked out: _Basic Wards for Beginners, Shielding Your Mind, Lawfully Learning Legillimency, Compendium of Curses,_ and _Basic Emergency Care and First Aid._ When Madam Pince finished she flashed him an amused grin before she ushered him out of the library.

Later that evening back in the common room, Harry was reading _Basic Wards for Beginners_ when Mandy drew his attention. "What are the rules regarding the chalkboard? Do you know?"

"From what I gather any year is allowed to write questions on it. A seventh year wrote the second question before I left for breakfast and I saw a third year add the fourth one about a half hour ago." Harry said as he watched Mandy pick up the chalk.

 _'Does a Boggart have a definitive form?'_

"What _is_ a Boggart?" Harry asked Mandy as she watched her question fade into the chalkboard where it would stay for two weeks.

"An amortal shape shifter who turns into your worst fear. I was reading about one today in between break and Transfiguration."

Mandy sat back down next to Harry on the couch and rested her feet on the table in front of her. "I went to the Library during break. Madam Pince showed me around a bit."

"Oh not fair, you should have dragged me along. Michael and Terry insisted I come with them to study out in the courtyard. They're obsessed with Potions and utterly terrified Professor Snape will kill them." Harry laughed at that, it had spread around school like wildfire that Professor Snape had taken nearly thirty points from a Gryffindor who had caused his cauldron to explode.

Silence reigned for a few minutes before Mandy looked to Harry, "Let's learn something!"

"I am learning something, I'm learning basic wards."

"No, no…let's learn something _together_. Like a project."

Harry looked to her and quirked a brow, "What kind of project?"

"Hm," Mandy hummed in thought, "I want to learn how to grow Devil's Snare like Professor Sprout showed us." When she saw Harry's face scrunch in distaste she said, "No? Okay then how about an instrument? Grandfather says that it's a great thing to learn."

Learning an instrument almost immediately appealed to Harry and he found himself groaning at the thought. He wanted to study so many different things that he was sure to fall behind in his classwork. But instead of saying no like he should have Harry nodded and allowed Mandy to drag him from the sofa. She led him to a closet next to the piano. Harry let out a low whistle, inside was almost every type of instrument Harry could think of and more that he could not identify.

"These are left behind by graduating students for those of us who want to learn," Mandy explained as she held up some sort of strange accordion and squeezed both sides together. It let out a horrendously loud sound and Harry cringed as she set the instrument down, coughing from all the dust it produced.

"Oh look there's a violin back here!"

Harry turned to explore the other half of the small room. There were tubas, a large harpsichord on rollers, a guitar, and even a lute. Harry continued looking until he found a large cello in a corner that was covered in a thick layer of dust. "I'm going to learn the cello!" Harry called to Mandy.

With a great struggle Harry lifted the cello and put every ounce of strength into carrying it back to the sofa so he could lay it down on the coffee table, Mandy came out of the cupboard only seconds behind Harry with a violin in one hand and a large grin on her face. "Are you sure we aren't better off buying new ones?" Harry asked as he eyed the dirty cello skeptically, it didn't even have a bow.

"Nonsense, these have character. All we have to do is put in an owl order for new bows and some cleaning supplies and we'll be good as new." Harry wasn't so sure but when Mandy said she'd do the ordering Harry shrugged and left her to it. He picked up his Warding book and made his way to the boys' dormitory.

 ** _Author's Note: Hope you enjoyed, let me know what you think!_**


	7. Chapter 7

**_Author's Note: Thank you for all your reviews! They make writing impossibly more enjoyable. I love hearing what you guys think._**

 ** _Little Gem_**

Life at Hogwarts fell into routine fairly fast for the new first years and for Harry in particular. With wanting to learn everything he could Harry found himself having to keep a schedule in a planner from Flourish & Blotts that he ordered through owl order when he purchased a copy of _You-Know-Who, Right?_ While his extra-curricular studies were quite hectic and chaotic, Harry thrived with the stable base of his classes to keep him grounded. Teachers were enthralled with him and frequently called on him during class, he had only been caught scouting out the Restricted Section three times, Padma fell into an easy, friendly rivalry with him over who could earn more house points, and Harry only forgot to do his homework five times. Everything was going smoothly…

…Until Harry had to make his way to the dungeons for Potions.

Every teacher Harry had seemed to love him, or at the very least love his abilities, except Professor Snape. The Potions professor seemed to absolutely _loathe_ Harry and he had no idea why. When Professor Snape had drilled him on several properties that were not learned until later in the year Harry had answered correctly but this only seemed to enrage the professor. It was horrible trying to prepare ingredients under the loathing onyx glare and it was nearly impossible to be careful around his bubbling cauldron when the Potions Master seemed intent on yelling his name every time Harry went to add a new ingredient.

What made things all the worse that Harry was desperate to know _why_ you had to add flobberworm mucus before the porcupine quills but couldn't ask. He had tried to raise his hand but Professor Snape had ignored him for ten minutes before Harry gave up and just asked anyway. That had only made things impossibly worse and Harry had lost twenty points for speaking out of turn, much to Padma's delight.

Potions seemed like the worst tragedy to Harry because he could _see_ it's potential. The class could be one of the best by far if only the students were taught the why's behind the complicated instructions and the how's of properly preparing ingredients. If only they were allowed to indulge their curiosities of what happened when you over brewed moondew or mixed wing of bat with eye of newt. To just have instructions thrown on the board with absolutely no discussion was a horrendous tragedy and Harry was fairly certain dangerous.

In order to try and counter Professor Snape's hatred Harry spent every Saturday morning in an empty classroom near the Hospital Wing purely experimenting with his cauldron. As it turns out overly brewed moondew turned milky and smelt like rotten eggs while wing of bat seemed to not be affected by eye of newt, perceptibly anyway. Friday evenings after dinner Harry spent the three hours he had until curfew nose-deep in the Potions section, studying every book that looked remotely helpful on the brews in his class text. They taught him how to properly cut flobberworms, when to harvest fluxweed, how to tell ingredients where fresh or spoiled, and he even learned that wing of bat could be dried, ground, and made into an antiseptic cream.

It was a Friday night a month into term and Harry was in the Herbology section of the Library grabbing _One Thousand Magical Herbs and Fungi_ for reference on different varieties of Hellebore in a Potions text he was reading when Professor Quirrell stepped into the same isle.

"Oh," The professor seemed quite surprised to find a student in the library, "Good evening, Mr. Potter."

"Evening Professor," Harry replied rather strained as he reached up, trying to grab the rather alarmingly large book. The text was seven inches thick and a good foot long, by far one of the largest tomes Harry had yet to come across.

"Here allow me," Professor Quirrell grabbed the book easily and handed it to Harry with an amused smirk.

"Thanks."

"An odd time to be studying Herbology is it not?" Professor Quirrell grabbed a copy of _Experimenting with the Sopophorous Bean_ from the shelf below and then looked to Harry.

"I know, but it's really the only time I have left in my schedule." The elder wizard looked intrigued and sat in one of the wooden chairs. Harry hopped up on the desk and prayed that Madam Pince wouldn't come by. The last thing Harry needed was to give the Librarian any reason to throw him out; she seemed to dislike him almost as much as Professor Snape even though Harry had tried everything he could think of to change her opinion. After a few of the stories she told him about his dad and his group of prankster friends, Harry didn't blame her quite as much. Some of the damage they had caused to the Library would have left him quite furious as well.

It would take time not flattery to show the Librarian he hadn't inherited his father's mischievous genes; though he should probably stop being caught near the Restricted Section in order to prove it.

"Professor Snape is – well I don't think he likes me very much and that makes it very difficult to learn."

Harry's scar was tingling pleasantly and he allowed his eyes to slip closed for a brief moment as his head tilted back to rest on the bookshelves. Something about Professor Quirrell's company was soothing for a reason Harry couldn't fully explain, it was just as if the professor settled something deep within him – like he were always on edge and never realized it until he relaxed. It was an odd reaction but Harry secretly wondered if this was what having a friend was like. Professor Quirrell had never spoken to him outside of class before but just the tranquility the professor provided made Harry believe that he could easily be friends with the plain looking man.

"How are the rest of your classes going?" Professor Quirrell folded his hands in his lap and leaned back against the back of the chair – his right leg coming up to cross over the other. The man seemed particularly at ease tonight which made Harry happy. Mandy had been begging Harry to participate in the social experiment the Ravenclaws were planning but Harry had declined. He wanted no part in deliberately pushing the man's social anxiety on purpose; he rather liked how easily he fell into a steady speech pattern during classes and was not about to jeopardize productive classes.

Harry waved a hand and grinned lazily at the question, "Classes are a breeze, Professor Flitwick has me studying fire charms already. It's Occlumency that's truly frustrating though. Did you know, Professor, that only mediocre Occlumens use the mental barrier? _True_ Occlumency masters hate that barrier; instead they have the ability to call up memories at will to divert Legillimency attacks." Harry sighed loudly and resisted the urge to bang his head back against the bookshelf in frustration. "But to do that takes extraordinary amounts of practice with a Legillimens.

"So my choices are being _mediocre_ or leave my mind unprotected. It's not fair."

The elder wizard chuckled quietly and Harry felt his lips pull into a scowl. "It's not funny Professor!"

"Quite the opposite Mr. Potter, I find it very amusing. You are in a castle with no less than three Legillimens, one of which happens to be a master of the mind arts. You'll find no better opportunity to learn than right now."

Harry's nose wrinkled at that. He was willing to bet a shiny galleon that master was the headmaster and while Harry thought it would be fitting for the headmaster to see the life he had condemned a child to, Harry wanted to lick fire slugs more than he wanted the headmaster inside his _mind._ "I bet that's Dumbledore – he seems to be a master at everything. Did you know he holds _three official_ masteries? Who are the other two Legillimens, maybe I can learn from one of them?"

Instead of looking dismayed, Professor Quirrell seemed to find humor in Harry's contempt. An expression not commonly shared unless one found the company of Slytherins enjoyable…which Harry did not. Over the course of the term so far there had been four study groups that had been put together, two of which had been with the Slytherin first years. Harry had tried to befriend a loner named Theodore Nott but the boy was painfully awkward and highly skeptical of Harry. Not that he was the only one. Draco Malfoy and Daphne Greengrass – both of whom Harry had never actually spoken to – made their opinions of him quite clear.

 _'He's the reason we're treated with suspicion – Don't talk to him, he's a filthy half-blood – Harry Tosser – My father says not to trust him because he kisses Dumbledore's fat arse.'_

It was only the immature talk of two eleven year olds but it had shown Harry just what people thought of him. While he was by no means happy to be famous Harry had prepared himself for it, what he hadn't prepared himself for was some to worship him a hero and others to see him as the destruction of their revolution. There were old prejudices against dark magic and dark wizards in the wizarding world and Harry had ended their fight for freedom. Harry supposed it was logical that Slytherin – the house notoriously known for producing grey and dark wizards – hate him, but it was rather a shock when some of his Ravenclaw year mates had said nothing to defend him. Their agreements clear in their eyes.

Everywhere Harry turned people were clapping him on the back, sneering at him, or quieting their conversations. The latter being mostly upper year Ravenclaw and Slytherins.

"Yes," Professor Quirrell agreed, pulling Harry from his thoughts. "The headmaster is one Legillimens, however Professor Snape is one, and then of course I am rather skilled as well."

"Professor Snape?" Harry had to fight to keep from shouting his surprise.

"Yes," Professor Quirrell hummed, "though if I am not mistaken Severus is rather lacking in Legillimancy. He is a brilliant Occlumens, better than even the headmaster I'd bet, but he still requires a wand for offensive mental magic."

Harry shuddered and shook his head, trying to calm his racing mind. "Professor, do you think you could help me learn Occlumency? I mean – would you be willing to, that is – "

"I could do far more than that Mr. Potter," Professor Quirrell leaned in conspiratorially and Harry copied his movements, his body almost shaking in excitement. "I could teach you Occlumency _and_ Legillimency."

The smile that curled Harry's lips was sinful.

Professor Quirrell and Harry met three times a week; Mondays, Wednesdays, and Saturdays, at four in the afternoon. For hours they would practice, so much so that Harry stopped his studies on first aid spells after the first book was mastered. Professor Quirrell taught Harry how to calm his mind, keep it calm, and what it felt like when someone was trying to access your mind.

Time flew by as Harry studied the Mind Arts. Between musical study with Mandy and his extra-curricular studying October melted into December. On Halloween a troll had somehow gotten into the castle and attacked a Gryffindor –in the girls' bathroom - named Hermione Granger who had suffered from several broken bones, but only missed two days of class much to her classmates' chagrin. By this time Harry was able to fend off Legillimency attacks he was prepared for, for up to five minutes which Professor Quirrell said was an adequate start.

Harry had grown completely comfortable within Hogwarts, and within his house. He loved the ever changing and the chaotic routine he built, but most of all Harry loved Ravenclaw. Despite the trepidation of his house mates he loved the quirks they had and how accepting they were. Padma had decided she wanted to study the charms on Chocolate Frogs one week and so all ten of them had gathered up and released over a hundred of them into the common room. The room had smelt like chocolate for a week but no one had complained.

Then there were the impromptu music sessions that the older years seemed to find relaxing, especially fifth and seventh years. They were prone to freaking out and when one student would sit at the piano to relax, not long after the music would attract others to the common room and they would join in on whatever instrument they could play. Harry absolutely loved these moments and would always find his way onto a comfortable chair so that he could just enjoy the music.

When November rolled in Professor Quirrell began teaching Harry how to peek into others' minds. Apparently wands were for ' _mediocre laughingstocks like Severus'_ and therefore Harry was banned from touching his wand while he learned how to peek into Quirrell's mind. It was difficult at first to even make the connection but as time passed Harry found it got easier and Quirrell had insisted that eventually eye contact wouldn't even be necessary for cursory glimpses.

Only once did Professor Quirrell mention anything he saw in Harry's mind. He had placed his hand on Harry's shoulder, giving him a thoughtful look. "The power you seek won't come from the books you read Harry."

After that Professor Quirrell dropped the subject entirely, much to Harry's relief. The Dursleys were a sensitive topic and Harry wasn't quite sure where he stood on the matter. On one hand he wanted to forget them altogether but then there days, mornings where he'd wake in a cold sweat from nightmares about the muggles. Those days found Harry withdrawn from everyone around him and boiling alive in the overwhelming desire to curse anyone and everyone, especially the Dursleys.

It was on one of these days that Harry had double Potions with Hufflepuff all morning. The day was quite dreary and thunder boomed ferociously overhead, almost as if the weather had felt Harry's emotions. The night had been full of terrors; he had tossed and turned, woken up drenched in sweat, and angrily drifted on the edge of unconsciousness only to be ripped away cruelly. Harry was left with deep purple bruises under his eyes in the morning.

Distractedly, Harry had shoved his books in his bag and grabbed a cauldron before stomping down to breakfast. Everyone noticed, Harry was not one to freeze in fury instead he found himself exploding like a volcano, erupting over a greeting or a glance. He might lack subtlety but Harry had derision for days and it never failed to be less than cataclysmic.

The dungeons ere even more damp than usual due to the rain and Harry took his seat next to Mandy as usual. He nearly knocked her cauldron over when he slammed his cauldron on the desk. She raised a brow but said nothing as Harry grabbed his textbook and flung his bag to the floor. It was then that Harry realized his cauldron was silver not pewter, he'd accidentally grabbed his self-stirring cauldron.

"Bloody hell," Harry scowled at the offending cauldron.

"Twenty points for swearing in class Potter," an oily voice called, almost delightedly.

Harry's head snapped up and he found that Professor Snape was in front of the chalkboard. The silence became deafening and Harry grit his teeth to bite back a retort. At least his daily twenty points were taken and now Snape could turn his attentions to the Hufflepuffs or maybe even to Padma who had taken to trying to get on the Potions Master's good side. It rolled Harry's stomach to watch her fawn over Snape and talk about how he must have suffered a great loss.

When Harry had claimed that loss had been the man's shampoo Padma had nearly snarled at him. Since then she took great delight in Harry's misfortune which absolutely thrilled her friend Pansy Parkinson.

When Professor Snape had taken roll he waved his wand the instructions for the Herbicide Potion appeared on the chalkboard. Mandy only sighed in resignation but Harry glared at the professor for a solid minute before he'd started prepping his ingredients. The Lionfish Spines, Harry found, were too fresh. Crushing them was rather difficult task but Harry's ire found it a decent outlet. Only ten minutes later Harry was ready to add the mushy, crushed mixture to his cauldron when onyx eyes landed on him.

Not for the first Harry wished he could do away with Potions from his schedule altogether. When Professor McGonagall had assured Harry that Hogwarts was the best school for magic, he had naively believed her. So far two of his classes were jokes and the rest provided no challenge whatsoever. A ghost and an overgrown bat who obviously loathed the sanctity of learning were so far below acceptable a muggle would have been able to teach them better.

Was it possible to drop a core class? Harry knew that there were W.O.M.B.A.T.S at the end of every year except for fifth and seventh, which were then replaced by O.W.L.S and N.E.W.T.S. As far as he knew the end of the year tests were just that – tests. They didn't decide whether you could take your O.W.L.S. and as long as you passed them you were free to take the N.E.W.T.S.

Harry realized quite happily that nothing was really keeping him in these dreadful classes. He could teach himself enough to at least pass the end of year exams. During the summer Harry could try to find a tutor – surely there was one somewhere – or work on the next year's curriculum.

"Potter," Professor Snape barked out, swooping down on Harry like a giant bat. "What is that?"

Harry rolled his eyes and decided that he was much better off without. "A roughly crushed mixture of Lionfish Spine and Standard Ingredient, just like the board says to have."

The vein on Professor Snape's forehead throbbed once and Harry took great delight in it. He hoped one day it would burst and the man would simply drop dead in front of the class. "Insolent fool," the Potions Master snarled, "you are using the wrong cauldron. Thirty points from Ravenclaw, Mr. Potter. Just because you are a celebrity does not mean you can be lazy and hazardous in _my_ class."

An itching appeared just under Harry's skin, irritable and uncomfortable. It was like his veins had become infested with lice. He had never lost more than the usual twenty points before and fifty was almost impossible to make up in a day, he'd have serious work cut out for him. "Maybe if you actually taught us," Harry snapped viciously, "why we need to use a pewter cauldron instead of silver, mistakes like these wouldn't happen."

It would have been comical to Harry to hear the entire class gasp loudly but he raged on, ignoring his year mates. "Thirty points from Ravenclaw you – "

"In fact," Harry raged on, cutting off the professor with a vindictive sort of glee, "maybe if you actually _taught_ potions instead of throwing the ruddy instructions on the board and saying 'Get to work!' then maybe we'd actually learn something. Like," Harry grabbed a snake fang from his bag and chucked it in the cauldron, "what happens if –"

 _BANG!_

The mixture in Harry's bag went volatile almost instantly from the venom of the fang reacting with the silver and the mixture – harmless to the skin but slightly toxic if ingested – erupted like baking soda and vinegar on a much larger scale. Harry wiped away at his glasses and glared at Professor Snape.

The Professor's face was turning a splendid shade of purple and Harry smirked triumphantly. This seemed to tip the professor overboard. Professor Snape drew himself up rigidly and towered over Harry with a sadistic smirk of his own. "Fifty points from Ravenclaw and a week's worth of detention. Now get out Potter, and go see Professor Flitwick."

For a second Harry stared at the Potions Master in surprise but then he grabbed his cauldron, dumped its contents onto the table, and grabbed his bag before he stalked out. "Oh and Potter?" Harry turned and glared. "Don't bother coming back." A smile threatened to break out on Harry's lips.

"As if I'd want to," Harry replied disgustedly, the mere thought of having to sit through another one of Professor Snape's classes was torturous. Harry held his head high even as he felt like raging and left the door open as he left; just as he had turned the corner the sound of the door slamming made Harry smirk.

Without even bothering to change or drop off his bag, Harry searched for Professor Flitwick. The half goblin that Harry had grown rather fond of was having tea with a professor Harry had never met and Professor Quirrell. The three seemed deep in conversation and Harry stopped at the door to the Professor's lounge just listening with a small smile.

"No, no, no," Professor Quirrell exclaimed exasperatedly, "the lay lines around it would cause the wards to fluctuate too severely to be stable."

The witch Harry had never met harrumphed loudly, "You are out of your depth Quirinus. Those lay lines would only serve to enhance the wards. With a properly carved ward stone it's possible those wards wouldn't fall until Merlin walked the Earth again."

Professor Flitwick seemed greatly amused but Harry was more focused on the Defense professor. Professor Quirrell looked about two seconds from hexing the witch. "Perhaps if those lay lines shifted with the orbit around the sun _then_ the changes would be subtle enough to be beneficial. _These_ lay line shift with the moon's orbit, much too fast to hold any sort of stable ward."

"I do wonder what would happen," Professor Flitwick mused with a smile and a cup of tea, "If a Fidelius were cast."

When Professor Quirrell threw his hands up Harry stepped forward and cleared his throat. Both the witch and Professor Flitwick looked up but Quirrell spun around sharply, looking highly relieved. "Shouldn't you be in potions, Harry?" Professor Flitwick asked as he set down his tea.

"Yeah, about that Professor," Harry took a deep breath, "I got in trouble."

Flitwick chuckled merrily, "How many detentions?"

"A week," Harry answered. The witch choked on her tea and her eyes widened.

"A week?" Flitwick asked weakly, his face paling with every syllable. "How many points did you lose?"

"A hundred and thirty."

Harry watched his Charms professor sputter incoherently and turn rather red. "Mr. Potter!"

"It won't happen again Professor I have been asked to not return," The Charms professor seemed so distraught that words were beyond his capabilities and his mouth open and closed with no sound. " I thought I would ask about Hogwarts' policy on dropping core classes."

When Professor Flitwick only blinked the witch spoke with a rather amused smirk. "I do believe it is allowed but highly frowned upon. How will you prepare for the Ministry exams Mr. Potter? "

"Thank you, Professor – "

She smiled wickedly and said, "Vector, Mr. Potter. I suspect I will be teaching you Arithmancy when you reach your third year."

"I look forward to it, Professor." Harry replied with a grin and then turned back to his Head of House.

"I will self-study until I can find a tutor to teach me over summer holidays. I suppose I should also inform you," he continued as if his Charms professor didn't look to be on the verge of a heart attack, "that I will also be dropping History of Magic on the same grounds, the teacher is incompetent."

"There is, however, one problem Mr. Potter." Professor Quirrell spoke up as he poured himself another cup of tea. "Your guardians must give their written permission and since your guardians are muggles they cannot – with full understanding of the possible consequences – sign off."

A sense of dread began to fill Harry and he was pleading for his logic to be wrong when Professor Flitwick found his tongue. "Quite right, during instances such as these the Headmaster is to act _in loco parentis."_


	8. Chapter 8

_**Author's Note: Okay, so I just have to take a moment and thank you lovely readers for your reviews. I absolutely love reading them because you tell me what you like and what is a bit confusing and it's just such a pleasure knowing that you all like my story enough to give reviews with substance. You all are amazing readers. Okay, I won't keep you any longer. Enjoy and don't forget to let me know what you think.**_

 _"I was bold in the pursuit of knowledge, never fearing to follow truth and reason to_

 _whatever results they led, and bearding every authority which stood in the way."_

 _\- Thomas Jefferson_

 _ **Little Gem**_

November melted into December and Harry was assigned to serve his detentions with Professor Quirrell who had been quick to offer Flitwick his help in disciplining Harry. He had not returned to Potions and had also stopped attending History of Magic. Professor McGonagall had explicitly stated her disapproval and had very blatantly tried to force Harry into attending class but when Harry had pointed out just _how_ lacking the two classes were, the elder witch had been forced to bite her tongue. Though she still gave Harry disapproving looks, she had stopped making remarks about it and instead had started comparing his transfigurations to that of Hermione Granger's.

In fact most of his teachers caught on to this and the muggleborn girl who had made no friends – not that Harry had made an actual friend unless Nanette or Mandy counted – was now being congratulated by her housemates as if she had received some big honor. Harry had been perfectly content with ignoring all of this until Granger – with the absolutely enormous tome called _Ancient Alchemy_ tucked under one arm – and her house mate Ron Weasley caught him in the Library one day; her smile, no matter how friendly she tried to make it appear, was gloating.

"You really should apologize to Professor Snape," Granger laid her hand on Harry's arm as if she genuinely cared. "He's really not so bad and he was the youngest Potions Master in a century."

"Professor Snape," Harry told her, not quite liking how close she was, "Could be a secret champion of Werewolf rights and it still wouldn't convince me to return to his class. It's not _our_ job to attend his class because deep down under all the blatant verbal abuse he's a nice person. We are here to learn and I wasn't learning what I think I should be."

Harry had turned to leave when Weasley spoke, "It was brave what you did, you know? I don't reckon I could've, downright scary Snape is."

"It wasn't brave it was a calculated risk. By the way Granger, could you have picked a duller book? Try _A Primer of Practical Alchemy_ if you are looking to learn or _Famous Alchemists of History_ if you're needing famous Alchemists and their contributions to the modern world. Oh and then there is the _Encyclopedia of Famous Transmutations_ if you are searching for a specific achievement – though I warn you, don't spill anything on it, it's very temperamental and starts smacking you. " With that Harry turned away from the wide-eyed Gryffindors and made his way out of the library. When he was out of sight Harry smirked, that gloating smile had died so fast and killing it had left him feeling very pleased. At least he did her a kindness though, he _had_ saved her from losing brain cells.

 _Ancient Alchemy_ was possibly one of Hogwarts most boring books and it didn't even cover Spagyric, plant alchemy, or even Nicholas Flamel's transmutations from common base metals into pure gold. Instead the book focused on the discovery of a universal solvent and had an absurdly long section on Dzou Yen and his mad quest for a Panacea. The man may have been the father of Chineese scientific thought but Harry was sure that he was as crazy as he was brilliant.

Though the same could be said for his Defense professor. Professor Quirrell's plan for Harry's week long detention consisted of the Forbidden Forest. Apparently many teachers wanted them to retrieve a number of items from within the depths of the feared trees so Harry had reluctantly packed a first aid kit he had put together and shrunk down to fit inside his pocket. It would handle anything from a nasty cut or broken bone to Acromantula venom.

However the trips into the forest weren't anything like Harry imagined. Professor Quirrell taught Harry how to move about the forest without disturbing the vegetation or attracting any unwanted predators. They walked near the treaty line of the Centaur village and Harry was able to catch a quick glimpse of one of the half man – half horse beings. Together they discovered a clearing where the fluxweed and moondew grew in abundance, happened upon a Unicorn that quickly bolted, and even found a rather fascinatingly large Venomous Tentacular that spit a purple venom instead of green. Professor Quirrell had made short work of digging it up and storing it for his inspection though he was adamant that Harry not tell Professor Sprout because the woman was "insufferable" when it came to rare plant variations. Harry had grinned and promised not to say anything to the stout woman.

The most intriguing part of the whole week was when Harry and Professor Quirrell had been looking for Purple-Capped Mushrooms for the Headmaster who loved the tea you could brew with them but refused to send House Elves to collect them. The pair had been amicably chatting about topics best spoken of outside of the castle walls – cursed daggers – when the professor had stopped with a small smile. Harry had been so focused on ascertaining what had captured Quirrell's attention that it took him a second to realize the man had grabbed Harry's hand and pressed it into a magnificent specimen of a Rowan Tree.

"What is that?" Harry asked slightly bewildered at how the contact made his head a little fuzzy. He didn't have time to ponder it long because then Harry realized that the tree seemed to be _humming_ with energy; it felt _alive_ beneath his fingertips.

Professor Quirrell smiled and ran his hand down the tree bark affectionately. "The wood sprites," he answered. "They are showing that the tree is ready to give wood for a wand."

"Do you know much about wand lore?" Harry asked, contemplating Ollivander's words in his mind.

 _'Almost as if –'_ Those words haunted Harry. His was a mind that exceeded in pushing limits and exploring theories, he absolutely loved pondering just how far the possibilities could go. But Harry was left drawing a blank when he tried to track Ollivander's thought process. Almost as if what? It left Harry frustrated to no end and he wanted to be able to talk to someone about this connection desperately.

But when Professor Quirrell said that he knew very little about wand lore Harry was brought back to reality. The man was his open minded defense professor and that was all. Harry could talk about Dark Magic, Dumbledore, or the Mind Arts freely with the man but as much as he wanted to confide in the elder wizard, talking about Voldemort to anyone was just not smart.

So Harry kept silent on the questions that plagued his heart and once again focused on the questions that plagued his mind. Over the course of term Harry had learned a great deal about bias in the wizarding world. Wizards were prejudice against non-humans and muggleborns, the Ministry was bigoted against anything remotely dangerous, and Hogwarts itself was narrow-minded about anything to do with Slytherins. It was driving Harry mad because the one thing they all had in common was that they were all highly intolerant of anything even remotely ' _dark'._

It was becoming a problem. Old customs, whole branches of magic, dueling techniques, and books on creatures that Harry couldn't begin to fathom were restricted. There was nothing Harry could do about it so he plunged again into the mundane work of his classes, mind arts, and music practice with Mandy.

One common opinion that was shared throughout Harry's class mates was that Defense Against the Dark Arts was the most enjoyable classes by far. Professor Quirrell was revered in Ravenclaw as the one professor who not only didn't care if debates broke out but _encouraged_ them. It didn't matter if they were meant to be discussing Hags and their quasi-cannibalistic tastes towards children or the smokescreen spell. If a student had a question they were encouraged to ask no matter the content. Debates tended to spring forth over these questions more often than not and it was rumored that upper years were doing the same with fervor ever since word had spread about Harry's very first Defense class.

It was Wednesday and that meant double Defense, much to Harry's delight, and double Transfiguration in the afternoon now that the ridiculous flying classes had ended. Flying was something Harry enjoyed recreationally but was fervently against when in a sporting capacity. He was much too small, according to Mandy, and Harry rather preferred not risking his head with a sport that used a ball called a _bludger._ No, Harry much preferred burying his nose in a book of complicated theory or even better yet reading a book that was _illegal._

More particularly, _illegal_ books accidentally left behind by older students in between couch cushions and shoved under bookcases. Finding these books became a game. It was probably wrong of him but Harry found that he had sticky fingers when it came to these kinds of books. They were _precious_ – knowledge deemed so dangerous that it was illegal to know – and they were just left lying around. Harry found that even with the extensive Hogwarts Library just knowing that there were subjects he was not permitted to research drove him _mad._ So when he found these precious books Harry never hesitated in collecting them and storing them in his trunk. The forgetful students couldn't report _illegal_ books missing and with the exceptionally clever anti-summoning runes Harry carved in the inside of his trunk, there was no way for them to find the books unless they physically rooted through his things, but Lorelei was told to bite anyone she saw attempting to steal Harry's things much to her pleasure.

Harry had spent the previous night engrossed in one such book. It was called _The Black Arts_ and was so delicious and promising that it had Harry skipping breakfast in favor of a mug of coffee and a brisk walk to the Defense classroom in search of Professor Quirrell. Before, when Harry had questions over glamours and their large scale possibilities the professor had spoken freely about what was called Illusion Magic and how it had been outlawed and stripped away with Harry until class arrived, since then Harry had been bolder with the professor.

"Early again, Mr. Potter?" Professor Quirrell smiled knowingly as he flicked his wand at the door; closing, locking, and warding it. It was an impressive feat that never ceased to impress Harry no matter how many times he witnessed it. "What has captured your fancy this time? The latest article on Golpalott's Third Law or have you found another misplaced book?"

The older man turned back around to the chalk board to continue the notes for Gargoyles that they would be studying. Harry sat on top of the desk he shared with Terry and laid his bag in his seat. "Do you believe in good and evil, Professor?"

Professor Quirrell stopped mid word and he turned and regarded Harry in quiet contemplation. "So Philosophy then? Alright, in what regards? Do you mean the actions of a person or a spell or perhaps just solely the concepts?"

"In regards to magic itself; do you believe a branch of magic can be inherently good or evil?" Harry felt his torso lean forward in anticipation as he watched the professor's mind work. It was fascinating to watch, whenever Harry instigated these conversations it was almost as if Quirrell had complete conversations in his head. Truly the mark of brilliance, Harry thought, because when the Professor did finally engage his responses were quite remarkable.

"I think," Professor Quirrell said slowly, carefully. "That magic itself, as a whole, is neither good nor evil. On the contrary those magics labelled as such are only more powerful and not everyone can master them which has bred fear and prejudice."

Harry hummed thoughtfully, in agreement and in pleasure, as he contemplated how best to phrase his next question. "I believe blood magic could be beneficial and that it's rather ignorant to disregard all possibilities of advancement based on the potential danger."

The older wizard inhaled sharply, not that Harry blamed him. The book Harry had just read had explicitly outlined the consequences of practicing any of the Black Arts, the Dementors' Kiss. The kiss sucked out your soul and left your living body a husk unable of anything more complex than drooling.

But the possibilities were running rampant in Harry's mind. For hundreds of years this knowledge had been stripped away – as with almost all Black Arts – and even before the branch had only just begun being academically explored. People had learned how to make their gardens flourish and how to track a person – hedge witch magic – but the trial of _The United Kingdom Council of Sorcerers v Tarquin_ _Crannach aka Tarquin the Terrible_ ground the progression of Blood Magic to a screeching halt. Tarquin had terrorized Nebuchadnezzar II for seven years before a witch in Babylon figured out that Tarquin had taken blood magic further and weaponized it.

There was so much _possibility_ and yet Harry could lose his _soul_ for trying. He rather felt like a Pegasus who had been chained to the ground and absolutely loathed the feeling.

Professor Quirrell studied Harry shrewdly for several minutes before Harry broke into a lazy grin and shrugged his shoulders as if to say 'I can't help it'.

"Hypothetically speaking of course, I don't believe there are more than a handful of hedge witch journals left from those days – if you could even find them – and Tarquin's grimoire was most certainly destroyed. I'm afraid, Mr. Potter, that any scholar would have to start from scratch – a very dangerous and daunting task I must say, not that the Ministry would ever allow such a pursuit."

The words 'dangerous' and 'daunting' – if Harry had any intelligence at all – should have put him off and withered his curiosity. Instead the dramatic words only served to excite him more. How often did one learn of a whole branch of magic that had been wiped from existence? Well, considering this government it might be more than a few times but still Harry was excited to have an interesting project that would finally invigorate and challenge his mind. It was finally a worthy pursuit in the monstrously dull repetition of the Hogwarts curriculum – an opportunity that Harry refused to give up.

If there was any sort of mantra or code that Harry lived by it was that you had to be bold in the pursuit of knowledge, after all knowledge was the greatest form of power and those to meek to pursue it were those not worthy of its gifts. Long ago, before Harry even really understood, he had vowed never to let the Dursleys fully clip his wings. He had been forced to keep his grades low below Dudley's, but while the pudgy boy had paraded his immense size as power Harry had realized that brute force only lasted so long, true power was intelligence and creativity – academic pursuits reaped rewards and rich satisfaction. Abusive muggles had not stopped Harry and now he was determined an intolerant and prejudiced government would not stop him either.

Harry didn't mention blood magic again to Professor Quirrell. As much as he trusted the professor with philosophical questions and discussions on theoretical dark magic Harry just didn't feel comfortable discussing beyond the realm of conjecture with a _professor._ So on his own Harry began the search the Library for the spells and rituals necessary to enchant and bind a book solely to himself, to make his very own grimoire.

As Harry scoured the library he found that Yule approached rather quickly and instead of getting excited to go home like his class mates, he began to contemplate staying at the castle. On one hand the castle and the Library would be Harry's for hours and hours on end but on the other hand Potter Manor had a Library that while not as extensive held a wider spectrum of books. The spells and enchantments he would need might be there.

A big reason Harry wanted to stay, if he were honest, was that Professor Quirrell had started a game of sorts to help Harry practice his mind arts. In class, in the halls, and even in the Great Hall they would try to catch the other off guard and invade their mind. It became Harry's favorite way of passing time and he was extremely reluctant to give it up because he was excelling by leaps and bounds. So Harry signed up to stay at Hogwarts much to Nanette and Mandy's curiosity.

Harry had yet to mention anything about his home life other than that he had been sent to live with his mother's sister and while no one questioned it, a few seemed to see through the vague story thinking he was lying about where he'd grown up. For a decade Harry had been hidden away and general conjecture was that he'd been hidden in a lavish manor behind every ward known to man and trained, which explained why Harry found classes so easy. It was laughable but Harry generally didn't bother to correct them unless asked.

"I don't know what's worse," Nanette growled the morning of Yule break. Harry looked up at the red headed girl with sleepy grey eyes. She was carrying a book that looked ancient and massive, covered in symbols Harry had never seen before, and was reaching for coffee. "The fact that Dumbledore decorates the castle like a muggle or the fact it's now called _Christmas."_

This was one reason Harry enjoyed Nanette's company far more than any else in the castle, except perhaps Professor Quirrell. Nanette was one of the only people who didn't watch Harry like they were afraid he would run off and tattle on them the moment they said anything remotely debatable. She was carefree and Harry loved it because she was a wealth of knowledge that was not written down in any book in the library. For a week now she had been catching Harry up on the wickedness of muggleborns and how their muggle culture was slowly contaminating the wizarding world.

 _"I'm all for literature and music," Nanette scowled into her Potions essay, "but Merlin now we have forsaken our heritage for some raving muggle who says we'll burn in eternal fiend-fire."_

"Perhaps you should do something about it rather than complain to me." Harry quipped and dodged just in time to miss her attempt to smack him over the head. He knew better than to engage the older teen in any sort of theoretical discussion on the contamination of wizard culture. Nanette was vicious in her opinions – though always genteel in her articulation – and was not prone to listening to reason from a first year.

"Well someone was doing something about it until you killed him," Her tone was ice and froze Harry to the core. "So maybe it's your responsibility to do something about it."

Voldemort was a touchy subject for Harry and he loathed it when people brought him up. Ollivander's words seemed to haunt him every second that he let his brain go idle. _'Do you believe in fate?'_ Harry wasn't sure what he believed or how he felt about the Dark Lord but when the wand maker's words rolled in his head Harry felt nauseous. _'No body…no wand…and a boy he can't kill.'_

It terrified Harry more than he could possibly say to think of Voldemort – the leader of the Dark Wizards' Revolution – still alive. _No body…no wand…_ Helpless and alone were the two things Harry had grown up feeling and he couldn't fathom the torture of going from so powerful people refused to speak your name to existing without a body or a wand…if it were even possible.

"I am not a leader," Harry tried to reply normally but his throat felt like it was closing. It was suddenly difficult to breathe. "I prefer to be in the background – left to my own insatiable thirst for knowledge."

Nanette didn't seem to notice as she merely scooped eggs onto her plate. "Yeah, Dark Lord business is usually left to the Slytherins."

"You're doing it again." Harry scolded the older girl in annoyance. "You were the one who taught me that the prejudices were full of crap and yet you discriminate too!"

"I was only joking tosser, no need to ruffle your feathers."

The scowl Harry wore was becoming a regular fixture around Nanette. "I actually think it would be brilliant to befriend a Slytherin. I'd very much like to see their common room. Cho Chang says it must be damp and chilly because it's under the lake but I find that hard to believe. I would bet a shiny galleon that it's opulent, there is no way Pansy Parkinson, or Merlin forbid Draco Malfoy, would ever live in anything considered dingy or decrepit."

"Well then find yourself a Slytherin friend and have them take you on a field trip." Nanette snapped irritably.

"Maybe I will." Harry replied purely out of spite though he knew he was more likely to befriend the Giant Squid than a Slytherin.

"Imogen says most of the first years are blood purist twats with two generation ties to the late Dark Lord." Her words were meant to hurt and Harry stiffened slightly.

Why did everything have to come back to the Dark Lord? Could Harry not make a single friend who refrained from talking about the man for one day?

"Meaning I'll never make a friend." Harry said glumly.

Nanette seemed to realize how rude she was being and she set down her mug and sighed. "People don't know what to make you of you Harry. If you'd have been a Gryffindor you'd have been a holy light wizard and the savior of them all before your first meal. If you'd have been a Slytherin you'd have been an even greater dark wizard who was going to replace the Dark Lord.

"But you're a Ravenclaw and that throws them off, there is no huge stigma around our house except that we are generally eccentric. Don't let Malfoy make you think this is about your blood, I'd bet the little prat wants to be your friend as much as those Gryffindors."

By now the Great Hall was starting to fill with people and Nanette seemed content with her attempt at making Harry feel better so he let it go and poured a cup of tea.

"Harry!" Mandy called cheerfully a few minutes later, her trunk floating along behind her. She was already dressed in a peach silk blouse and a pleated navy skirt with thick black tights. Her pea coat was draped over her trunk along with her blue and bronze scarf.

"Morning Mandy," Harry greeted her and watched as she sat down across from Nanette.

"Do try not to lose any more house points while I'm gone," she said looking rather fearful that Harry would, left to his own devices for so long, get into trouble.

"Don't worry I have a new project on book enchantments that I'm working on," Harry said with a secretive grin, "I'll be in the library most of the break."

"Of course you are," Nanette chided with a fond smile, "Because Merlin knows it would kill you to actually study for the classes you dropped or any class for that matter."

At eleven the students who had signed up to go home for break were ushered out of the Great Hall and Harry was left alone. Without the hundreds of students swarming the castle Hogwarts seemed even more immense than usual. With the promises of hot chocolate and fresh cookies from Tinky, one of the house elves, Harry returned to his common room and was content to curl up with Lorelei and finish a book called _Security Spellwork for the Travelling Sorcerer._


	9. Chapter 9

_**Author's Note: So this chapter is a little longer than the others have been, not that I see you all minding much, but a lot happens so...you might want to invest in a sticking charm to stay in your seat? I hope you enjoy!**_

 _ **Little Gem**_

Hogwarts over holiday break was beautiful and Harry was unrestrained in his quests for both scouring the Library and exploring the castle. Unfortunately he wasn't left with much time for the former as Lorelei had become insistent on getting Harry out of the stone walls and into the fresh air much like they had been at the manor during summer. Initially Harry had been wary about letting his familiar roam the snow drifts but she had raced ahead and showed him gleefully how the snow did not affect her. Being native to the Isle of Skye, Scotland was her habitat and she was made to weather the harsh winters and mild summers.

So Harry had pushed all academic pursuits to the back of his mind and enjoyed honing his Transfiguration and Charms skills in the snow. He made animals that could hop through the snow for Lorelei to chase down and crush between her rapidly growing jaws, made a pressure gauge to see just how powerful her bite was, and even turned his snowman into a waltzing charmer that sang in triple meter, much to Professor Flitwick's utter astonishment. That had led to the man promising to draw up a new lesson plan for Harry because apparently the Charms final was to make a fruit dance though Harry had been sworn to secrecy.

Apart from having childish fun with Lorelei Harry had also taken to protecting Professor Quirrell from the wrath of Weasley twins who had begun to follow him everywhere and pelt him with charmed snowballs in attempt to rile up the mild tempered, anxiety ridden professor. This was not something Harry condoned and so one afternoon after having already diverted the terrors twice Harry grew tired and decided that winning their ire would draw their attention away from Quirrell permanently. He began to plot and charm snowballs. The next time he caught the twin terrors anywhere near the Defense professor Harry launched a full scale attack of charmed snowballs and the twins had been thoroughly unprepared. By the time they realized what was happening and could think of counter measures the attack was over, they were blue and bronze wherever they had been hit and Harry was already half way back to the castle walls.

"This isn't over Potter," they yelled gleefully as Harry retreated.

This began what Harry referred to as the Great Yule Prank War of '91. Over the course of several days the twins had managed to slip him a Belching Potion in his tea that left Harry burping alarmingly loudly for hours anytime he tried to talk, they had gotten into the Ravenclaw common room and desecrated the sacred question board with questions of lovesick preteens – _How long are Harry Potter's eyelashes? Do you think Harry Potter would be a good kisser? How is it possible for Harry Potter to be so dreamy? –_ and they had also swiped all of Harry's Drooble's Best Blowing Gum and replaced them with horrid ice mice. The latter had been a direct hit to Harry's reading time because it was well known that Harry Potter was almost always smacking away and blowing bubbles as he read, much to the ire of _everyone_ \- especially Madam Pince.

But Harry gave as good as he got, much to the amusement of the Professors – the only witnesses of the Prank War except the other Weasley siblings. He had charmed the twins' shoes with a modified _Glisseo_ spell – Professor McGonagall had given him a proud smile and awarded him twenty points for talent and ingenuity – so that whenever the twins tried to walk up or down stairs the stairs turned into slides. This had amused the twins greatly at first until they had tried to walk up the stairs. He'd also managed to, with the help of a house elf, enchant their pillows to scream swear words whenever the twins started to fall asleep – which almost had them begging for mercy.

The crowning prank of all that led to the twins making him a crown engraved with _Prank Master Beware_ was when Harry had pranked them at dinner in full view of every professor at Hogwarts. Harry had spiked their food with an aging potion and dosed their cups with – completely moral – love potions, Fred was keyed to Professor Snape and George was keyed to Professor McGonagall.

When the twins had started aging they had tried to ask for help they were only able to sing sonnets about their _'beloved'_ professors _._ Harry had taken great joy in everyone's horror, after all who said he wasn't studying for classes?

While these shenanigans had left the staff riotous and cheerful, Harry had not expected the consequences. Showing off his magical prowess had gained the attention of the Headmaster. The day after the pranks ended – the twins had conceded with the promise of retribution – Harry had been summoned to Dumbledore's office via owl and left Harry feeling rather dreadful as he made his way to the stone gargoyle and repeated the password, "Sherbert Lemon".

"Hello Harry," Dumbledore greeted happily from behind his desk as he closed a rather large, black leather tome with no name on the cover.

"Headmaster Dumbledore," Harry replied evenly, trying to keep his voice steady.

"Please do sit down I find that my knees are no longer what they used to be and much prefer the comforts of a soft chair." Dumbledore, in a show of wandless and wordless magic, sent the unknown book back to the small bookshelf underneath the window.

Silently Harry was impressed because he'd been under the impression wandless magic was nearly impossible, but he tried very hard not stare and kept his face as neutral as possible. "If this is about the love potions they weren't really _love_ potions, just tied to make the twins verbal satire keyed to one person. Technically that's not against the rules and –"

Harry cut off abruptly when the head master smiled and waved away his defense. "Quite the contrary Mr. Potter you have shown the staff how incredibly gifted you are with your fun with the Weasley twins. I do hope that this 'Prank War' will not be the last; laughter is food for the soul as I have found. I am glad your father's sense of humor has finally showed itself, I was beginning to think that while you look a great deal like him your personality would be entirely your mother's."

With that Harry's stiff posture relaxed some. "Then why am I here Headmaster?" Not that Dumbledore's office was a terrible place to be – far from it actually. There were piles of interesting books taller than Harry and interesting silver gadgets that adorned shelves. There was even a real Phoenix on a perch behind the Headmaster's desk that Harry was greatly interested in.

"As much as I would like this to be a social visit," Professor Dumbledore said sounding rather strained, "I am afraid that your behavior towards your classes has been less than ideal."

Now that Harry knew why he was here he felt rather dumb for not figuring it out before. "You have stopped attending History of Magic and after quite a rude spectacle, Potions. Despite your clear and impressive demonstrations of understanding advanced magical theory and their practical uses your grades in the classes you _do_ attend are barely passing, very low Acceptables according to your professors."

Dumbledore looked at Harry over the rims of his half-moon spectacles and Harry had the very intense urge to fidget. His performance wasn't _that_ bad, the headmaster was making it sound much worse than it was. So what if Harry didn't waste his time with homework essays on topics he could recite in his sleep. He had so much more interesting things to study like applying charms to inanimate to animate transfigurations.

"Are you having trouble with your house Harry?" Dumbledore asked in a very grandfatherly voice.

"No," Harry immediately rejected the mere idea. They may be wary of him on some topics but Harry loved Ravenclaw. "I just don't see the point of homework when the material is so hopelessly dull. I get bored and find other ways to occupy myself."

The wizened headmaster nodded as if this was expected. "I figured as much. Be assured Harry that the staff are already developing a lesson plan for you but they cannot pass it by the Board of Governors if they have no confidence in your ability to handle it."

"But I can handle it!" Harry exclaimed rather loudly. "You've seen what I can do. You know I can."

"I know your talented and so do your professors, but the Board of Governors do not know you. They see your grades and think you are barely passing your normal classes as it is and that you are even failing two." The urge to scream in frustration was nearly overwhelming. He was being backed into a corner and the feeling of being outmatched was new and awful.

"In order for you to have this new curriculum you must show the Board that you are capable of handling it," Dumbledore said as he folded his hands together. Harry wondered how on Earth the man appeared so calm and caring when he could practically taste the headmaster's triumph.

Harry glared at the floor as he debated his two options; spend the rest of the year focusing on monotonous busy work for an advanced curriculum next year or continue on and spend the next six years as he had been.

"I won't go back to Potions or History," Harry said after a long heavy pause in conversation. "I'm willing to concede to every other class but I won't go back to either of those two. You could sign my drop form and - "

"I won't," the headmaster cut Harry off. "Those are important classes that are critical to your education here and I won't sign off for you to drop them. Should you decided not to go back you will sacrifice an advanced curriculum and receive two failing grades per year."

It was that moment that Harry learned exactly how stubborn he could be. "Then I will be continuing on as I have been. I refuse to attend classes where one professor is out of touch with the physical realm and teaches nothing but Goblin Rebellion and Troll Wars and the other professor has turned his classroom into a death chamber where I am constantly verbally attacked while I await imminent death from hazardous potion making. You may be familiar with gas chambers, Headmaster, but I do not wish to be."

Headmaster Dumbledore's genial demeanor froze over and the air became several degrees colder. Harry watched as twinkling blue eyes grew frosty and wondered absently if he hadn't pushed too far. Would he be expelled now? What would he do if he were expelled? Considering that Professor McGonagall had said Hogwarts was the _best_ school that had to mean it wasn't the _only_ school, but if Hogwarts was considered the best what would the others be like? Was it possible for them to be worse? Harry decided he'd have to research other magical schools as soon as possible if only to be aware of other options.

"I will not condone this behavior, Mr. Potter. I personally selected Professor Snape and have never had complaints over my curriculum. The students who pass through my halls have higher capabilities than any other school." Harry watched as Dumbledore stood and the man's shadow fell over him. "Furthermore I will not be challenged and so blatantly disrespected by a student. Not only am I your magical guardian during school terms I am also your guardian out of school and you may choose to fail your schooling if you wish but you will not speak to me in such a manner again."

Harry watched with wide eyes as the genial grandfather was completely replaced with a quiet ferocity that left him stunned and if he were honest – scared.

"Now before you leave," Dumbledore said as evenly and ferociously as the rest of his speech had been, "I have received word from your relatives that you never returned to Private Drive last summer."

Kicked in the stomach, that's how Harry felt. It was as if he had been trapped in a corner and then kicked in the stomach all of the air had been knocked out of him. "There are wards – powerful and ancient magic – called blood wards that your mother enabled to be erected when she sacrificed her life for you. I realize that Potter Manor is vastly different from the muggle world but it is imperative that you return to your relative's house. You are vastly safer under the protection of the blood wards – where Voldemort or his Death Eaters cannot touch you.

"Potter Manor is well known and would be crippled under siege from Voldemort."

It was the first confirmation of Voldemort's continued existence he had and Harry's mind tried to grapple with new information while trying to cope with the devastating and crippling loss of control that he had only just managed to get over his life. His mind spun so fast that the room seemed to dim and tilt. For a long moment of heavy silence Harry sat there stupidly trying to wrap his mind around everything.

"I won't go back," Harry whispered fervently as he stared into space. "You can't make me go back, I won't."

Harry was prepared to fight, he was ready to scream and kick and cause a bloody riot over this. Nothing the headmaster had to say would change his mind, not his guardianship and not Voldemort. He would not go back to his cupboard. He would not return to being a weak punching bag. There was no force on the Earth that could make Harry go back. He would have to be dragged kicking and cursing.

The wizened Headmaster seemed to grasp this and much to Harry's surprise the man did not once again draw himself up or try to intimidate Harry. Instead frosty blue eyes warmed and looked at him sadly. "You will be returning," Dumbledore said quietly as he sat back in his chair.

"I won't," Harry replied vehemently.

The stalemate hung heavy in the air and when Harry was dismissed to return to his dorms he was plagued with feeling that he while he survived to argue another day the war of wills was far from won. He returned to his dorm and curled up under his comforters covered in heating charms with Lorelei. The warmth did little to comfort Harry though as he felt tremors wrack his body. The terror that plagued him was the kind that Harry had thought he had left behind at the Dursley's for good. It was helplessness and the subconscious need to submit to survive that overrode every rational thought – the need to curl up so small that you disappeared into the background and prayed you didn't lose yourself in the process. Be no one, be silent, be obedient… _survive._

The next few days passed in a gray fog of self-protecting indifference. The twins tried to engage him in a snowball fight, Professor Quirrell tried to engage Harry in intricate theory on shield charms, Ron Weasley had even offered to teach Harry how to play chess, but Harry withdrew from everyone. The most difficult had been Professor Quirrell. Harry wanted so much to confide in him, to try to seek out comfort in the only person who had truly shown some understanding to Harry's situation. But the professor, no matter how different and understanding, was only his teacher. What could one teacher do stop the Headmaster who was also the Head of the Wizengamot and the Supreme Mugwump of the International Confederation of Wizards?

So Harry had taken to trying to avoid everybody at all costs. When Professor Quirrell sought him out in the Library Harry had taken Lorelei and together they had taken to exploring the grounds.

Yule Solstice or Christmas dawned bright and early. Notices were posted that a feast would be held at two and all were welcome to attend. Harry had woken up late in the morning and had been relatively surprised that he had presents. Nanette had sent him a large pack of Drooble's Best Blowing Gum in all sorts of flavors and Mandy had sent him a large box of Chocolate Frogs. Harry had sent them both Honeydukes' certificates.

Then there was two more packages, both larger and one rather squishy. He opened the latter first and was deeply surprised to find a silky cloak that smelled like dust. Much to his astonishment when he had tried it on Harry had found that it was an invisibility cloak. Quickly Harry had torn the paper apart looking for a note. His gut clenched painfully when he recognized the spidery scrawl of the headmaster.

 _Your father left this in my possession before he died. It's time it was returned to you. Use it well._

Any happiness Harry had had over having such a rare and useful gift was tinged with bitterness and fear when he recognized Professor Dumbledore's attempt at mending fences. Harry was fighting every instinct ingrained in him since he was one. He would not go willingly back to Private Drive. He couldn't. If he did, if he willingly put himself back in that mindset, Harry wasn't sure he could pull himself out of it.

The last gift Harry received was just as bittersweet. It was a large black leather bound book full of blank, expensive parchment pages. Harry ran his hands over the cover reverently before he reached for the note.

 _It is my fervent desire for you to fill these pages with your discoveries. – Professor Quirrell_

Harry wanted to be happy because it was such a beautiful gift, but it left Harry feeling incredibly guilty. He had been avoiding the professor and had even rather violently pushed the man out of his mind when the professor had tried to initiate their game. It's just that Harry wasn't sure he'd be able to keep calm, to keep focused enough to keep his meeting with the headmaster secret. Though Harry hadn't totally ignored the man, he had sent Professor Quirrell his gift with a school owl. Harry had enchanted a porcelain teapot from the kitchens with an enchantment he had found while scouring the library for anything to make a grimoire.

The teapot was enchanted to pour the intended drinkers favorite tea no matter how many people it served at once. The enchantment had been tricky and Harry had failed many times over the course of two weeks but eventually he had gotten it right and had been quite proud of it.

Harry opted to skip the feast that was being held and stayed with Lorelei and her new toy deer that Harry had ordered from Diagon Alley. It was a magnificent piece of spellwork. The deer was charmed to run and dodge and let Lorelei hone her hunting skills. Whenever she managed to kill it the deer would drop and repair itself only to go dashing around once more.

The two of them had stayed outdoors for hours. Harry had watched her play and chase the deer through snow drifts and across the lawn. A few hours past dark they had ended up near the forbidden forest and far away from the Gamekeeper's hut.

For another hour Lorelei played ecstatically and Harry let the cool air dull the razor sharp terror that had engulfed Harry since his meeting with the headmaster. His head was beginning to clear with time and the resolution to fight gradually became stronger. Though he was still greatly perturbed at how easily the wizened headmaster had instilled the same fear that Harry had thought he had escaped.

The foreboding never left but Harry was able to shove it away. He would find a way to regain control, he was sure of it. For now though, Harry was content to follow Lorelei into the Forest to hunt her deer.

The Forbidden Forest was quiet and eerie as always but ever since his week-long detention forays with Professor Quirrell the quiet was soothing instead of fearful. The forest was nice to stroll through if you knew the areas to avoid – the Acromantula nest to the west of the Gamekeeper Hutt and the Centaur camp to the east. Harry stayed on the path that he and Quirrell had taken and was quite relaxed as he studied the various smaller magical animals.

There was a grey and fuzzy Glumbumble that was rolling across a fallen tree that was blowing spit bubbles, when it saw Harry it produced a treacle, but he knew better than to eat it. A pair of Jarvies popped up from their holes when Harry passed and Lorelei had taken to chasing them while the ferrets shouted obscenities like 'Slug' and 'Fatty' at her. It was quite amusing. Further in a Moke took interest in Lorelei and was scenting her until it spotted Harry and shrunk itself before fleeing.

Harry had been enjoying himself so much that it took a long time to realize that that the forest around him, which had been quiet but alive, was now completely silent and still. Even Lorelei who had been having a wonderful time seemed tense. But before Harry could ask her what was wrong his scar started to tingle. It prickled – not painfully – and steadily grew stronger until Harry clapped his hand to his forehead and gasped in surprise.

Then out of the dense fog that loomed along the forest floor rose a figure draped in a large billowing black cloak. It rose a few feet higher, never touching the ground and it floated slowly toward Harry. Harry watched in fascination wondering how on earth it was possible to fly without aid and was completely enraptured at the sight the figure coming ever nearer, slow and steady as if to give Harry time to bolt. But his legs were locked and the thought of running was quickly discarded as he tried to figure out what was happening.

He'd only ever felt a tiny prickle in his scar with Professor Quirrell but now the sensation had amplified a thousand fold. The closest thing Harry could describe it as was awareness – a closeness so intimate that it soothed his raw nerves that had been exposed for the last few days.

Finally the figure stopped short, fully upright and still not touching the forest floor, about two feet from Harry. Silence loomed thick and heavy as the fog on the ground. Harry remained quite still, intensely aware of the almost stifling magic that crackled around the figure. He tried to peek under the deep hood, tried to see a face or any defining characteristic, when the figure's head rose slightly and allowed Harry to make out piercing scarlet eyes in the looming darkness of the hood.

"Harry…Potter…" the figure's voice was a breathy whisper; rough and gravelly, a deep baritone that drawled slowly but crisply.

"Voldemort," Harry whispered back just as airily. There was no doubt now. Every cell of Harry's body knew exactly who this figure was.

Slowly Voldemort inched forward and Harry still did not move. There was so much Harry wanted to ask, wanted to say, but he found his jaw incapable of unhinging and forming words. He felt utterly immobilized in fascination. This man had managed the most incredible magic Harry had ever heard of – surviving without body or wand. The sheer amount of magic that crackled around them was breathtaking and it took an embarrassingly long time for Harry to realize that it was _both_ of their magic. Harry's own had responded and together the atmosphere was thick and heady and electric.

"Yesss…" Voldemort's gravelly confirmation was punctuated by the elongated hiss.

It rolled a shiver down Harry's spine. Voldemort was also a Parselmouth, Harry remembered reading, but the Dark Lord was so elegantly fluid that Harry could hear it even when he spoke in English. It was the ultimate mastery of Parseltongue that Harry hoped to someday achieve.

"I have watched you…studied you…" Another shiver rolled down Harry's spine. The scrutiny of that piercing bloody gaze felt white hot on Harry's skin. "So inquisitive…chained up like a starving dog…"

"I'm not a dog," Harry growled fiercely and Voldemort laughed - a deep gravelly rumbling sound that reverberated through Harry.

"So bold and unafraid…You defied all of my expectations…I wonder…Will you defy another?"

Voldemort's scarlet eyes were alight in morbid curiosity. "Do you know why the third floor corridor was out of bounds? Do you know what was hidden there?"

"No, I didn't care." This elicited another gravelly laugh and Harry waited, tense and rigid for the test to come.

"The Sorcerer's Stone was hidden deep beneath foolish traps…" Harry felt his eyes widen in surprise. The Sorcerer's Stone, also known as the Philosopher's Stone, was Nicholas and Perenelle Flamel's greatest achievement – the greatest achievement of Alchemy. It was known to transmute base metals into pure gold and when brewed properly grant the drinker immortality. The possibilities of such a stone were phenomenal and mind blowing but for Voldemort… for Voldemort it could mean a body.

"Yesss, I see the recognition in your eyes." Voldemort inched even closer and Harry found gleaming red eyes challenging him intently. "You know what it does and who I am, now know this: I have taken the stone."

Harry's heart was racing in his chest faster than a hummingbird's wings and his breathing was heavy and uneven. His head was tingling fiercely and pleasantly, magic crackled around them, and Harry waited for Voldemort to continue.

"I will leave here tonight and the return of the Dark Lord Voldemort will be imminent…Will you, Harry Potter, try and stop me?"

Harry's breath caught in his throat as Voldemort's hood angled as if he had cocked his head to the side. Scarlet eyes were still the only thing he could see and they gazed at him in expectant curiosity.

This was a defining moment, Harry knew that. There really would be no point to fight, Harry surmised, as even if he managed to kill Professor Quirrell who Harry was sure was under that cloak somehow playing host – not that he had any intention of doing so – Voldemort would probably still survive. It was almost rather insulting to Harry's intelligence for Voldemort to even ponder such a thing.

But this wasn't about who would win now – it was about if Harry would act against the man –men? – he had come to know over the last half year. It was about if Harry would act against Voldemort.

Harry knew nothing more than what his biased books and peers had told him about Voldemort and as such he could not make this decision on facts alone. Some say Voldemort was a man bent on dominating and destroying the world, others say he was a revolutionary genius. Harry didn't know which of these were true, if either of them were, or if one had been true but was now false. The only thing that Harry did know was that the one person Harry felt closest to for the last four months turned out to be Voldemort and that they were fated – by wands – not to fight.

Ollivander's words that had plagued Harry for months finally made sense. "I've decided I believe in fate." Harry said after a long moment of silence.

"Whether you are the mass murderer bent on world domination and destruction or the revolutionary fighting for a just cause, it doesn't matter. I am a boy you can't kill and you are man who I can't kill, I was destined for the wand you can't fight and you were destined for a wand I can't fight. I believe we're meant to be friends – fated even."

Silence reigned almost oppressively as Harry waited for Voldemort to say something. His heart was fluttering and skipping leaving him breathless.

"You continue to fascinate me little gem," Voldemort closed the remaining few inches between them and the magic around them crackled quietly. "I hope you continue to do so for a very long time."

Harry found himself leaning forward – desperate to make out the man's features – when Voldemort pulled back and disappeared in a cloud of black smoke.


	10. Chapter 10

**_Author's Note: So I'm sick...which is why there'll probably be tons for you to read today. Good for you guys but I'm all restless and frustrated lol. Anyways, a bunch of you guys requested a chapter in LV's point of view. I wasn't planning on one but you guys really wanted it. I was afraid to try my hand at Voldemort because I don't think I do him justice but much to my amazement -even if this chapter is terrible- I had a blast writing it. Anyways, I hope you enjoy it and let me know what you think okay?_**

 ** _Little Gem  
Lord Voldemort's PoV_**

How does one judge a person? This was a question I found myself contemplating with alarming frequency during my life. Do you judge them solely by their wealth? Perhaps by the beauty they possess? Or maybe their past deeds – heroic or malicious – revealed some nugget of truth of what lay deep below surface. One could argue that none of these are proper standards, much too shallow for the depth of the human soul but I found over time that peculiar as this trinity appeared to be, they were the most reliable grading scales.

One knew what to expect of the lavishly wealthy – they wished to be beautiful in the eyes of those that surrounded them. They strived for immaculate houses, reputation, appearances. Everything they ever did was solely based on greed and their strive for perfect beauty, even those who claimed to seek power did so for image of power to lord over their acquaintances who also strove for their own perfect beauty. Vain, narcissistic, and callous – these were the ones that would do anything for and to protect perfection.

The beautiful were perhaps the most tolerable. They were just as vain as those who coveted their splendor but they were consumed by another disease, longing. Plagued by a continual lust for more they very rarely realized that it was not more opulence that they craved. So in their ignorance they feasted on shallow vanities like gluttons trying to fulfill this craving, never noticing they killed off every sensitivity. Hollow, cold, and vicious – the beautiful tore every facet trying to find this craving and in the end pushed themselves into the sensual challenge of advanced magic in order to feel anything again.

Then there were those who managed to perform some great feat and the tide of fame was their particular brand of drug. The heroes, who had all done something that garnered favor and they expected it to last forever. When their fifteen minutes of fame were over the crash back to normalcy was unbearable and they either sought out a new quick way to the top or they buried themselves in delusions of grandeur – sometimes they did both. They were addicted to the spotlight, to the power that came with it, and to self-assurance it made them feel. After all, no great feat was ever completely moral. Guilt, denial, and jealousy – the heroes were forever trapped in their own secret moral justification, prone to extreme violence when you threatened that validation, and always on the lookout for the next rise to the top.

This categorical system had never failed me. Sometimes one person would a mix of two but everyone fell into neat little boxes in the end. I never had a problem sorting through and using these weaknesses against them. The world was nice and simplistic this way – I saw the threads of reality and manipulated them to my own ends. For fifty-five years I was a force of nature, unmovable and unstoppable, completely beyond the laws that governed other men.

Fate, it seems, had no such illusions.

I had expected my downfall to be a hero. I had expected him to be riding the monstrous wave a glory that my plunge into the deepest chasm in the ocean had created. For all my intelligence, I had expected my hero to be the definition of the stigma I had been trying to abolish. A self-proclaimed light wizard that would set forty years of my blood, sweat, and tears back so far that moving forward would be essentially starting from scratch. I had expected my downfall to be my negative – everything that I wasn't; brash, foolish, and prejudice.

What I found, however, was far from any expectation or preconceived notion I had held.

Harry Potter was a paradox. The little boy with Killing Curse eyes was quiet and gentle yet loved loud and boisterous debates. He was cheerful, bubbly even, yet he was clinical and cold; he wore his heart on his sleeve and gave it to no one. The boy spoke to everyone and yet made no friends. He was incredibly smart and driven but he was easily bored and made no effort in his grades. In an effort to learn as much as he could as fast as he could, the boy lived in the library and drown himself in a headache inducing combination of subjects.

Harry Potter was uncouth, untrained, and undisciplined but he was beautiful and he knew what he craved. He was a diamond freshly extracted from the earth, uncut and unpolished, but I could see him.

For the first month I watched, I observed from afar the cause of my destruction and burned away all my preconceived notions as the boy broke them in half. I began to study him, analyze him in a way I would a new creature. I learned his habits, the topics that made him shine, his weaknesses, his dislikes, and I began to figure out what made Harry Potter tick.

Slowly I unraveled the boy until my observations from a distance grew into solid facts and then I made my move. I wanted closer, I wanted to penetrate the shallow surface and pick apart who Harry Potter was beneath the open-minded, lazy, brilliant boy.

I was greeted openly with all of the trust only a child could manage. It was fascinating to watch his mind expand, growing by leaps and bounds, but it was also disconcerting. Potter's mind was a mirror into my childhood that I had no interest in revisiting. So I didn't delve into the boy's mind as I normally would have. I stayed on the surface in my intrusions and waited patiently for the boy to open up to me willingly. The waiting game became one that I enjoyed immensely. Instead of tearing open a flower I watched as it blossomed in my hands, a spectacular sight to behold.

When the boy came to me the first time, shy and insecure, asking about dark magic I was not as surprised as I should have been. The boys thirst for knowledge, though chaotic and sporadic, was vast and uncontrollable. And who was I to deny him? I began to dictate responses instead of watching from the side lines as Quirinus humored the boy and everything changed.

My warm reception to his unorthodox questions fused a bond between us that ran just a bit deeper than student and teacher. Much to my surprise it was not wholly one way. Potter became Harry and my sterile clinical exploration of who Harry Potter was became contaminated with a grudging fondness. As our conversations grew more substantial Harry grew more comfortable and I grew ever more curious. Just how far could I push the boy before he turned tail and ran to Dumbledore, scared of where our conversations led?

I was careful of course, always letting the boy seek me out and choose the topics of our conversations. But each time I nudged him harder, pushed him farther – slowly ripping away his rose-tinted glasses in which he viewed the world. It was glorious to watch as the boy realized how corrupt wizardkind was. Harry loathed the rampant prejudice that plagued our world, from creature's rights to blood status, to magic and house – he resented it all. That resentment pushed him ever farther into sturdy, independent thought that would last long after I had left.

The day I had been anticipating for a while still left me surprised when it dawned. Harry sought me out and this time the conversation plunged farther than it ever had before into the icy depths of danger. I had my escape plan ready – the traps mapped and the stone just waiting to be taken – should our conversation not end well.

Harry learned of glamours and I watched as he bloomed even more under my watchful gaze. There were possibilities, Harry had exclaimed loudly, creating whole glamours of people or surroundings – actual illusions. I had been so tempted to show him just how true his words were. I could show him magic that would sweep him away and leave him breathless in wonder. It was the first time I found myself wishing to reveal myself to him but it would not be the last.

Over the next two months Harry's visits were as frequent as they were spontaneous. Out of nowhere the boy would show up with a bright, lazy smile and sparkling eyes to talk of anything that suited his fancy. Without even being aware of it I began to look forward to his visits even going so far as to plant a few of my own books within Ravenclaw Tower when Harry had expressed his urge for more. He was restless and annoyed with how his peers tread so cautiously around him. With all the beauty of his growth I had been blind; I began to realize that he was resenting how confined he felt.

My final attempt at pushing Harry farther was in the form of a book called _The Black Arts._ In his naivety he never realized that no self-respecting Ravenclaw would ever bring that book anywhere near Hogwarts. I waited for him to realize it or for him to turn it in when he realized the consequences that were so heavily outlined in the book for practicing such arts. Once again the paradox of a boy with Killing Curse eyes fascinated me with his bold and daring expression of interest in blood magic.

In my youth I had dabbled in Necromancy only long enough to create Inferi. I had gone furthering in mastering soul magic than any other and I had pursued Illusion and Elemental magic farther than any other in recorded history. But I had never had the time to explore an unknown branch of magic from the ground up.

Mere months ago the idea of someone taking what was mine – and I considered this project mine as I had filed it away for my later perusal – would have enraged me. Yet I found myself keenly aware of not only how it _didn't_ bother me but how I was excited to see him explore. Harry never confessed to more than an interest but I saw the gleam in his eyes and I wondered how he would fare when he was so undisciplined, so restrained. Once a dog breaks his leash they tended to over exert themselves in the hazy euphoria of freedom.

I found myself fervently hoping that once Harry fashioned himself wings he would not fly too close to the sun.

Throughout my time at Hogwarts I kept close watch on the suspicions of others. I made sure to engage in conversations – rather I forced Quirinus to – and made sure that the more outlandish rumors of the debates happening in my classes were kept far away from the other Professors. Yet I was realizing my time was going to come to an end. It all wrapped up so nicely that the saccharine ease of it all sickened me.

Dumbledore brought in the Mirror of Erised, an artifact I was not familiar with, as yet another safeguard. I understood that I would have to act before he set it up or risk the time it would take to figure it out. Then Harry was called to Dumbledore's office and I watched with a growing sense of dread. I realized that in my time here and my time with Harry I had grown rather fond of the boy, so much so that watching him walk to the Headmaster's office left me feeling as though he were walking away from me – as if I were losing a possession I cared for greatly. I had tried to shake such nonsensical thoughts away but fear of losing something as precious as Harry snaked its way around my spine.

I tried not to but I found myself seeking the boy out for the first time. He avoided me like I was plague. Scared and withdrawn, I wanted desperately to understand what had caused such emotions to surface after I had spent so long making his eyes sparkle in excitement. I had known this was coming, I told myself, I had prepared for this. My preparations had been woefully lacking. I gave one last attempt to uncover what was wrong with my precious paradox – I initiated our game. I sunk in to the familiar mind easily, just a shallow dive to alert him to my presence, and was harshly removed with a viciousness that had never found purchase in our game before.

So I stopped. The time had come for my experiment to end and my time at Hogwarts was rapidly expiring. Winter Solstice was a pleasant irony too sweet to ignore so Quirinus prepared for our departure while I stewed in cold fury. There had been no objections to my swift theft of the stone. Dumbledore had gone to the Hogs Head to once again try to mend fences with his brother and the professors were all drunk merrily on Yuletide wine. There was no time but I couldn't stop myself from throwing out a mental net trying to find Harry as we left the castle.

I found him in the forest a little ways off the beaten path that I showed him in his detentions. I should have ignored him, should have taken the precious time I had to make my escape permanent while Dumbledore raced back to the castle. Instead I changed course to the east, flying low in the fog for cover. The boy was mildly happier than he had been the last few days but the exuberance I had grown fond of was notably absent.

Quietly I circled around in front of him and there should have been no way for him to know I was watching but Harry's gaze shifted to me unwavering and confident. So I rose up from the cover of fog and glided forward slowly wondering if he would once again leave.

"Harry…Potter…" I rasped with my own voice for the first time in months. It was harsh and gruff from disuse but the boy's eyelids drooped to a lazy half-gaze.

"Voldemort." My silent fury grew. He knew whoI was. He had found out who I was and had run.

He should have known better, not one person has ever outrun me. I'd killed them all.

I moved forward watching the boy I had come to favor watching me. "Yesss…" I hissed quietly. "I have watched you…studied you…" I had watched him bloom under my care and tutelage and I would continue to do so as he withered away under the constraints Dumbledore would place on him. "So inquisitive…chained up like a starved dog…"

"I'm not a dog!"

The laugh that escaped me was not to be held back. It was full of derision and humor and welled up from deep within. There was the ferocity I had grown accustomed to, it was a shame this would be the last I saw of it. Maybe in a few years when my paradox matured he'd have it on the battlefield. I could see it now, how his eyes would sparkle dangerously and he would be a force to be reckoned with. I would hunt him down to the ends of the earth and I would watch him bloom once again under my ministrations. He would blossom and I would cherish him in death.

"So bold and unafraid…You defied all of my expectations…I wonder…Will you defy another?" I wanted him to understand what was happening, to live in the fear of knowing I would come for him. Yet I couldn't deny that I was horribly curious as to what he would do, how he would react.

"Do you know why the third floor corridor is out of bounds? Do you know what was hidden there?"

"No, I didn't care." Another burst of laughter came pouring out and I almost smiled fondly. No, he didn't care. He had been much too enamored with me and his learning to care about Dumbledore's foolish games.

Harry was waiting for me to tell him what was hidden there. His Killing Curse eyes alight in curiosity. All previous traces of his dour mood had seemingly vanished which was quite the quandary for me. Now more than ever he should have been hateful, spiteful, and belligerent even. Yet he looked at me as he had all term, even now that he could see my red eyes and knew who I was. I contemplated the possibility of having been wrong in my assumptions as I spoke and watched the boy closely. "The Sorcerer's Stone was hidden deep beneath foolish traps…"

The boy's eyes widened to the size of dinner plates but still there was no fear, no anger, there was nothing but excitement, the exuberance I had been searching for. "Yes I see recognition in your eyes. You know what it does and who I am, no know this: I have taken the stone."

His gasp was delicious and I inched myself closer, the magic crackling around us in anticipation.

"I will leave here tonight and the return of the Dark Lord Voldemort will be imminent… Will you, Harry Potter, try and stop me?"

I knew he wouldn't even if he wanted to; Harry was much too intelligent to think he could possibly win. Yet I searched him for deceit, for any loyalty to Dumbledore, and for any resistance to me. What I found was quiet speculation. It was as if some sort of revelation was happening and I waited eagerly for him to come to me, as he had before. He would blossom in my hands or he would never blossom at all.

After a long period of heavy silence Harry spoke with a soft smile that came only from finally understanding something. "I've decided I believe in fate."

Before my mind could contemplate his words Harry continued, "Whether you are the mass murderer bent on world domination and destruction or the revolutionary fighting for a just cause, it doesn't matter. I am a boy you can't kill and you are a man I can't kill, I was destined for a wand you couldn't fight and you were destined for a wand I can't fight. I believe we're meant to be friends – fated even."

His words startled me to the core. I had spent many years contemplating the prophecy which marked my doom and even though I found no trace of it within Harry's mind I found the concept of misinterpreting a half heard fortune leading to a full fruition amusing. A boy with the power…but in all my time unravelling Harry never once had there been any whisper of any power I did not know of and none of them were of any threat to me. That our wands were meant never to fight only compounded my curiosity but did not overly worry me.

A plan started to come to together in my mind as I regarded Harry in serious contemplation. He stared back at me hesitantly expectant but bright eyed and fearless.

I don't believe I had ever been or ever would be so pleased to be wrong. Something had upset Harry but it had not been me and it clearly had not been any dark magic debates. Which meant Dumbledore was sticking his nose where it wasn't welcome. Harry Potter was still mine.

Slowly I closed the chasm between us and reveled in the pressure of our magic intertwining. "You continue to fascinate me little gem. I hope you continue to do so for a very long time."

I would be watching him closely. I would watch as time wore away and smoothed his edges and as trial and error polished him until he shone. Yes, my little gem had quite a ways to go but it would be a fascinating journey to behold.


	11. Chapter 11

**_Author's Note: So sorry this took so long, I read a truly awful - well written, but awfully fatalistic - fic while I was sick and it completely killed my muse. So if this is a rather forced chapter I'm sorry. Do know that I am happily back in possession of my muse and already working on the next chapter. This is a bit longer than most but do keep in mind that I'm no Runes expert, so all Runic references are a mixture of fact and my imagination. Thank you all for your amazing reviews, they make me so happy!_**

 ** _Little Gem_**

"Who died?"

Harry mentally marked his place and peered around the stack of books on the table. Mandy held three of her own, all on enchanted artifacts he noted silently. "No one, why?"

"You have to ask?" With a huff she dropped her books precariously close to Harry's leaning towers and dropped into the seat across from him. "Shrouded in black like death himself and you look like someone knifed your dragon."

"Lorelei is a monitor and belongs to no one, she is not a pet." Harry corrected with an amused smile. The man at the Magical Menagerie had been right when he said that Lorelei would grow to be huge but Harry hadn't realized that Skye Dragons bonded with the magic of their wizard and grew with it. It was only March and Lorelei was already four and half feet long, a little over twice the size she had been when she hatched. She had lost the nimbleness but even with her bulkier frame she could keep up easily even if Harry tried to outrun her. Most of the Ravenclaws stayed far away from her afraid that she would go into what was called bloodlust and attack them. It was funny for Harry to watch them now circle around her in the common room, giving her wide berth.

"Besides anyone stupid enough to bring a knife to a monitor fight deserves to meet death."

Mandy snorted rather loudly and leaned her chair back precariously to check around the corner to make sure Madam Pince hadn't heard. When it was safe to continue she let her chair fall forward and pinned Harry with a serious look. "Are you okay?"

"I'm fine," Harry stressed and pointedly picked up _Befuddling Muggles._

Thankfully Mandy only wrinkled her nose and didn't question his choice in reading material. Her own book was questionable, _Behind the Bewitchments,_ but Harry returned the favor and didn't question it. It was beyond obvious now that her future was not in Diagon Alley. While Harry was immensely curious about seedier shops and how to find them he wasn't quite ready to risk the tentative trust that Mandy had started showing him by letting small details like this book slip.

Besides, it was only logical to learn to walk before you try to run. The books he found lying around the common room were enough to keep Harry occupied while he built a solid foundation to build on. Maybe once he was able to perfect animate to animate transfigurations he could start snooping around those shops.

Then again he was fated somehow to Voldemort. Maybe if Harry could find something of value those shops wouldn't be needed. After all what better way was there to learn about illegal branches of magic than from the champion of their rights? The sheer amount of knowledge Voldemort must possess left Harry feeling weak in the knees. The history books – as unreliable as they were – all agreed on only two things: that Harry was the Boy-Who-Lived and that Voldemort was so terrifying that even Dumbledore never stood against him face to face as he had with Gellert Grindelwald, the previous Dark Lord who championed the downfall of the Statue of Secrecy.

A complete lunatic if Harry had ever heard of one who had seemed more focused on causing as much chaos in as many countries as he could. Honestly it would only take one planned attack to bring the Statue to its knees and then one fell strike to cut off its head. The entire thing screamed a cover-up but Harry didn't fancy himself a conspiracy theorist and he didn't particularly care enough to try digging around. He was much too busy adjusting to the present with the sudden disappearance of Professor Quirrell to worry about some ex-Dark Lord who got thrown into his own prison.

Between the time Voldemort left Harry standing in the forest and the time it took for the staff to notice the Defense professor's absence, Harry realized two things.

The first was that without Voldemort Hogwarts felt exceedingly hollow, like a wand without a core – not really a wand at all, just a shameful mockery. There was no longer any afternoon tea chats or any conversations on restricted magic or their possibilities. If Harry received detention there would no longer be a teacher he enjoyed to scoop up the opportunity to spend the evening with him, teaching him things that were not found within the books in the Library. Neither were there any classes in which the students were encouraged to push beyond complacency and to grasp for originality.

Worst of all, there was no pleasant tingle in Harry's scar. The constant unsettling feeling of being on edge was now more noticeable than ever before and left Harry feeling quite anxious most of the time. In order to try and counter this restlessness Harry had taken to sneaking into the forest after his classes, under the safety of his invisibility cloak, to a patch of wild Fanged Geraniums that he had worked into a small garden. Hours upon hours Harry spent in the dark with Lorelei experimenting with Herbology based blood magic as the hedge witches had done so long ago. Only returning to his dorm when sheer exhaustion began to creep in and hinder his gardening.

During the day when it wasn't safe to sneak out to the Forest Harry escaped from the absurdity of the Gryffindor and Hufflepuff houses by retreating into the Legal section of the Library. It was with bitter irony that the Headmaster had temporarily replaced Voldemort with an Auror, which Harry quickly learned was a dark wizard catcher, named John Dawlish. The lions and the badgers fawned over the decorated Auror as if he were Merlin incarnate, reveling in the strict militaristic rules and the _honor_ of learning from someone who had actually fought and captured dark wizards.

 _If only they knew…_ Harry lamented silently.

Auror Dawlish preferred to be addressed as such and did not answer to 'professor'. He did not allow questions that were not based on the lesson of the day and when you did ask or answer a question Auror Dawlish requested – forced – you to stand beside your desk and use the most concise wording possible.

There would be no more debates in class, even if they were on topic. Auror Dawlish's opinion was the law, quite literally. The Ministry of Magic's views were his views, their laws were his moral code, and their orders were his commandments. Anyone who expressed the slightest doubt in the Ministry or its views was corrected with the ferocity only a small minded bigot could possess. The man actually represented what Harry thought Ron Weasley would be like when he was older. Both of whom Harry was almost entirely sure had never entertained an original thought in their entire lives and absolutely regarded anything remotely Slytherin as evil, even the eleven year old first years who were so obsessed with who's castle was bigger or who's blood was purer that they could hardly tell a conjuring from a summoning.

While Harry had hated the man on principle at first for taking Voldemort's position and crushing Harry's foolish day dreams of the man returning; now Harry's hatred was based on fact and reason. The Ravenclaws and Slytherins also held a deep dislike for the rigid and simple minded Auror. The snakes because of the silent understanding they had gained by such an open minded and unbiased professor and the eagles because their brief taste of freedom had been viciously snatched away. For the first time Harry truly understood Nanette's words at the welcoming feast. For the first time he realized that being an eagle was being free to soar beyond the realm of general approval.

The second realization was that with the loss came a greater understanding between Ravenclaws and Slytherins, a greater sympathy shared. Draco Malfoy and his sycophants no longer harassed Harry in study groups or glared at him in the hallways. In fact it was almost as if the more Harry mourned the loss of Voldemort and Professor Quirrell the more the Slytherin first years forgot about his part in the Dark Lord's demise and began seeing Harry as just another student who shared in their suffering.

Now there were five different study groups shared between the two outcast houses and Harry found himself grouped up with Mandy, Daphne, Pansy, and Draco. Each one astoundingly civil and more than capable of keeping up with Mandy – though often times Harry and Draco found themselves deep in Magical Theory discussions that left the others turning away with no hopes of keeping up.

Harry found he rather enjoyed the scholarly side of Draco – who preferred Potions and Transfiguration but was still more than happy to help Harry think of ways to push his Charms work to the next level. In a way Draco was almost like Hermione Granger – brilliant and driven – but whereas Granger was condescending in her own arrogance Draco was more condescending towards Harry's half-blood status.

Oddly enough, Harry preferred the blood prejudice nonsense to patronizing superiority because Draco never had the overwhelming need to put Harry down to make himself feel better. That and Harry never failed to threaten the boy with arcane curses – not that Harry knew any yet – when he got mouthy. Their partnership was tenuous and school work related only but it was much better than the open hostility Harry had received in the first half of the year.

Harry was determined that by the time he graduated he'd be on good enough terms for Draco to show him the Slytherin common room. The Hogwarts rumor mill was now convinced that each Slytherin had their own rooms _and_ there was a dueling chamber complete with training dummies.

Yet his determination didn't end in finding a way into the Snake Pit. For a week Harry prowled through the Legal section of the Library under Madam Pince's watchful eye. He had combed through every book, every record of trial on hand, and every damn by-law regarding children's welfare he could find. What he found was less than comforting. His childhood was something that just didn't happen in the magical world. Wizard culture _cherished_ children and firmly believed in raising them for the betterment of tomorrow. But in their own ignorance wizard's had left the justice portion to a single option: a small hearing with the Head of the Department of Magical Children's Welfare followed by a criminal trial if necessary.

This wouldn't be quite so bad if the hearing wasn't public record. This meant that if Harry were to report his muggle relatives to an Auror or to the DMCW that the resulting trial would be open for anybody to peruse. However that wasn't the only problem, Harry found that there was also no magical version of a foster system or even an orphanage for kids in Harry's predicament. No one to replace the muggles and nowhere to legally go – he didn't see the DMCW allowing an eleven year old to live on their own even if he was perfectly capable – Harry couldn't fathom what option he had when it came to Dumbledore.

There was no way he would make his childhood open to public perusal and take a chance of winding up with an unfamiliar family but he also did not want to go back to Private Drive. If Dumbledore knew about Potter Manor who was to say the man couldn't find it? Harry loved his Ward books but he wasn't so arrogant as to think he could understand the wards around the manor or how to strengthen them. If anybody did come after Harry – Dumbledore or not – he couldn't be confident they would be enough to keep him safe to those who knew where the manor was. Then again, was he better off in an abusive muggle residence?

All of these questions were compounded when Harry realized that Dumbledore's fears were based off fears of Voldemort returning via the Philosopher's Stone. Granted Voldemort had said he would be returning but he didn't say when specifically nor did he even threaten Harry. Harry hadn't stood against him in the Forest and he'd even confessed his belief that they were meant to be friends – allies – which might have even pleased Voldemort. So unless Harry was truly mistaken he felt that there was more danger in returning to Private Drive than there was Potter Manor.

But there was no way to tell Dumbledore that or convince him of it. So how does one go about disappearing from a wizard that most considered the most powerful wizard of the last two centuries? And even if one did get away, where did they go? How did they stay hidden? What would the headmaster do when he realized Harry was gone?

The last question ate at Harry. What kind of trouble could he get into for refusing to return to Private Drive? As lacking as Hogwarts curriculum was, Harry wasn't about to jeopardize his magical education for anything.

In every legal case Harry found in the Reference section concerning minors there was only one about a boy who got in trouble for running away. Phineas Cepheus Black who lived from 1885 – 1980 and was officially disowned from the Black family in 1905 for his radical pro-muggle's rights views. Apparently as a teen Phineas was prone to running away and his father, a former Hogwarts Headmaster by the name of Phineas Nigellus Black, slapped a tracking bracelet on his son until he turned seventeen. After that Phineas Cepheus only lasted three years before being publically disowned.

Everything about Phineas Cepheus Black's case turned Harry's stomach. The horror over the existence of such a bracelet was only shadowed by the horror over the only known case in Hogwarts being from over a century ago. Harry could not possibly be the only student to ever have had an abusive home. How had other children survived? How had they gotten away? Harry felt nauseous as he threw the offending book away from him.

For a few months the idea of a magical world had been just that – magical, beautiful, and wonderous. But now every day the world lost its charm little by little until finally, Harry didn't see a difference between muggle or magical. For all wizardkind's glory they were pretentious, ignorant, prejudice, and so very stupid. They thought themselves better than muggles but Harry was under no such illusion – wizards had the _potential_ to be better, but where they stood as of now they were just as bad if not worse.

So instead of fighting and risking any sort of chance with that horrific bracelet Harry left the Legal section of the Library for good. Instead of searching for a way out Harry began searching for untraceable ways to protect himself from the Dursley's and their presence.

All untraceable types of magic were considered and thoroughly researched but not many branches were undetectable especially when used against muggles. Most Transfiguration and Charms were thrown out of the window while Harry stockpiled books on Potions, Wards, and Ancient Runes.

When it came to Potions Harry felt less than confident about brewing quite a few on his own and with the term rapidly coming to a close Harry decided to snag an Apothecary owl order form from an upper year Ravenclaw in exchange for a book on the history of the Fidelius Charm. J. Pippin's Potions was located in Hogsmeade which made it ideal to order from.

Healing potions were first on the list incase either his wards or runes failed or if Harry was caught unaware by anyone. Everything from a bottle of Skelegrow to mend bones to bruise cream was ordered and Harry even splurged in the Health and Wellness section. It was quite a delight to find out that there were potions to fix his eyes and reverse some of the damage from malnutrition.

Aside from healing potions Harry ordered an array of Wit-Sharpening and Memory-Enhancing potions purely for experimental purposes. If he were locked up at Private Drive then he'd at least have some fun. Which was exactly his reasoning for ordering a few more malicious prank potions; if he could not protect himself or torment the Dursley's right back with a wand, then potions would have to do it for him. So Harry ordered all sorts of devious concoctions like a Screaming Snakes Hair Potion, a Pompion Potion – which encases heads in pumpkins for an hour, a Maximum Turbo Farts Potion, a Laxative potion, a Fungiface Potion, and two bottles of Everklena – a 'cleaning' spray that made more of the grime you tried to clean.

All in all Harry ordered enough to warrant use of his Gringotts card and to produce a maniacal thrill. At least when he returned he would be able to make the Dursley's lives absolutely miserable.

Several of the Memory and Wit-Sharpening potions were used secretly to help Harry in his attempts to give himself a crash course in rudimentary wards and runes. The problem with wards was not that they were very difficult – in fact they were fairly simple if all one wanted to do was keep out a muggle. Then you didn't have to weave them together or counter any gaps or worry about a wizard breaking them. No, for a muggle you could literally just put them up one by one and they would work perfectly.

Harry's problem was that he did not know how to make a wardstone safe for travel. Once he left Hogwarts the trace that had been placed on him upon entering the school's wards would prevent him from being able to legally cast any magic with his wand when he left. Wardstones helped with this because once set they were tied to the stone and mobile. Yet Harry had no idea how to make a trigger so that he could turn the stone off and on for transport. The only obvious solution was ridiculously complicated and required use of a wand outside of school.

For weeks Harry attacked the problem from every angle relentlessly, yet no solution allowed for mobile transport and a power switch. Harry even considered using blood as the switch that activated the gem but while it could work theoretically there was no time to teach himself how. In the end Harry ordered a Mokeskin Pouch from Dirvish and Banges from yet another owl order form he'd traded Daphne Greengrass for a Charms essay. Mokeskin Pouches were not only helpful in that they had undetectable extension charms – a clever little Charm that Harry was desperate to examine – but they also hid magical signatures. The wardstone, which would be active all the time, would be temporarily disabled within the pouch making it safe for transport.

So with transportation covered Harry began delving deep into the Warding books. Layer after layer of enchantments were used, anything that Harry found even remotely possible was cast upon the stone. _Cave inicium, Repello muggletum, Facere intrusus, Repello dominium,_ and _Sonorus mitigent_ were all the wards suitable for a muggle repelling wardstone that a first year was capable of, or at least that Harry was capable of in the short time he had to learn.

Ancient Runes turned out to be quite a bit more difficult than either Wards or Potions. Students weren't meant to even begin studying them until their third year and even then it was an elective – meaning that only those with the aptitude would be taking it. Even after studying _Ancient Runes Made Easy_ and scouring through _Spellman's Syllabary_ Harry was left with only vague notions on Runes and absolutely no idea on how to string them together or use them in any other way than rudimentary divination.

What Harry did learn was that the most common Runic language was Proto-Germanic and called Elder Futhark. According to someone named Barty Crouch Jr. who had defaced _Advanced Rune Translation_ quite thoroughly even under Madam Pince's wrath, Elder Futhark was an introductory alphabet because of how easy it was to both learn and string together. The meanings were fairly simple and straightforward and left little wiggle room which more advanced practitioners preferred. However much this Barty Crouch Jr. seemed to hate the Elder Futhark alphabet the man was absolutely brilliant at joining them together to create simple little protections.

Uruz, Thurisaz, Perthro, and Kenaz linked together beautifully to create what Barty called a "Bedroom Adventure". The man connected Eihwaz, Algiz, and Sowilo, intricately to create a rudimentary protection barrier that left Harry worrying that this Barty might have had the same problems Harry himself had. Merkstave Mannaz, Berkano, and Tiwaz were only marked as "For Annoyances". There was also another set marked "For Enemies" that held Isa and Hagalaz lying in opposition and a merkstave Eihwaz.

Harry wasted no time in copying these down – promising one day he'd find Barty Crouch Jr. and thank him. He also jotted down the entire alphabet and their meanings, both normal and in opposition or merkstave. Harry had no idea how Barty linked them together so fluently or creatively but he promised to pick up some books on Ancient Runes during the summer that went over using Runes in actual practical magic and not in Divination.

By the time Harry's preparations for the return to Private Drive were complete the madness over end of term exams – W.O.M.B.A.T.S – had fully erupted and the study groups Harry had been part of became a nightly occurrence. The study group had laid claim to a table in the back of the second floor of the Library, far away from Madam Pince's watchful eye so that actual discussions over theory could be held.

Most of his year mates grew increasingly worried that Harry would fail Potions and History of Magic since he had stopped attending. Even Draco Malfoy and his little group hovered in attempts to make themselves available for mutual tutoring. It was nice to have them worried for his wellbeing but Harry was fully confident that he could brew every potion in the text book. Even further, Harry had been memorizing herbs and ingredients in attempts to learn how they react with one another.

Still, even though Harry assured them, books on cutting techniques or Goblin wars found their way into his bag or under his pillow. One book, _Potion Making Volume 1,_ was embossed with a large golden 'M' on the spine and actually given to Lorelei to give to Harry. Inside was a note that read:

 _Potter –  
Read this. If you fail it's your own stupidity and my conscience is clear.  
Draco Malfoy  
P.S. I need the book back it's from my family library. Father will be displeased if he realizes it's gone. _

Harry had made quick work of devouring the book. Finally he had a book that reviewed remedial potions and explained the logic behind the brewing steps. He had been extremely reluctant to give it back but Nanette had warned him against crossing the Malfoy lord. Apparently the man was as proud and powerful as he was merciless. That he had been a Death Eater – a follower of Voldemort – was whispered quietly because Lucius Malfoy had several loyal upper years in his patronage that would be quick to relay any talk of such things. Officially pardoned as he had been "Imperiused", Lucius Malfoy's past was the elephant in the room that nobody acknowledged out of fear. Nobody actually bought the claim but nobody challenged it either.

All Harry knew was that he didn't particularly want to make a powerful political figure and a - possible - Death Eater angry. Not that Harry led on to the fact, Draco Malfoy was absolutely insufferable when it came to his father.

Charms was by far the easiest test out of all of Harry's tests. He had had to make a pineapple dance and Harry gave it a top hat, a cane, and even a little bow tie. In the end it greatly resembled a cartoon peanut he'd seen on the television once. It tap danced its way across the desk and with a childish grin Harry had charmed a quill holder to join in and together the pineapple and the quill holder performed a thoroughly entertaining number. Professor Flitwick wasn't shocked after Yule but he was delighted at the attention to detail.

Harry had been happily prepared for Professor McGonagall's exam. Lorelei allowed Harry to practice animate to inanimate transfigurations on her. She also loved to test different potions – her favorite being the hair growth potion – and even helped Harry master his Charms. It had been rather adorable when she had stated that if Harry needed a live animal to practice on that she should be the one to aid in his spellwork. She took her duty very seriously and had even offered up a few armored scales or other potions ingredients should Harry ever need it. So it was mostly thanks to her that Harry was easily able to turn a mouse into a rather ornate snuff box.

History of Magic was a dreadfully dull hour of answering questions on Emeric the Evil who had terrorized the south of England and the batty old wizard who'd invented self-stirring cauldrons. Astronomy and Herbology were no more difficult, Professor Sprout had them working with Bouncing Bulbs. Auror Dawlish had tested their knowledge over Red Caps and the Knockback Jinx. Harry knocked his Red Cap back nearly fifteen feet and it slammed into the far wall, though he did miss the first time which Harry was sure the Auror docked him a few points for.

Professor Snape went rigid when Harry entered the class along with the others but he didn't say a word. With a fierce glare he waved his wand and two words appeared on the chalkboard: _Forgetfulness Potion._ Harry thought it was pretty funny when Padma Patil moaned and complained quietly about forgetting how to brew a Forgetfulness Potion but his snicker cost the house twenty points.

The only tricky part to the whole brew was remembering to slowly heat the Lethe River Water. Draco's blessed book had made that very clear and Harry filed a note in the back of his mind to return the favor somehow. Three Hufflepuffs and Padma both forgot to do this and their potions were cloudy instead of clear. Poor Mandy completely mixed up the Valerian Sprigs and the Mistletoe Berries so her brew ended up pure white with bits of twig that hadn't be properly ground sticking out.

Harry managed fairly well considering he'd been teaching himself. His potion turned out clear but the watery texture it should have had was instead the oily consistency of melted butter. One look at Professor Snape's smug smirk left Harry with no doubt that he'd only be in for another degrading insult if he asked what he did wrong. So instead Harry broke off from the lamenting first years to find Nanette.

"You dolt," Nanette lazily flung her hand out to smack him. Harry dodged easily as he fell into step beside her. "You're only supposed to use the sprig. If you use the flowers as well you not only get an oily potion but one that makes the drinker sleepy and forgetful. The flowers have sedative and antispasmodic properties."

"Oh."

Nanette shrugged as sprawled out on the grass underneath a tree. She moaned loudly as she stretched out her muscles, "The worst part of O.W.L.S isn't the studying it's the damn time it takes to do written exams. Bloody quill cut into my skin and my back feels like it's been petrified.

"Anyways don't worry too much. I heard that Longbottom kid in Gryffindor somehow managed make his poisonous. My money says he mixed up the berries for some other Mistletoe ingredient."

"And you don't find this at all disturbing?" Harry sat down beside her and leaned back against the tree. "That Snape is allowed to pervert the privilege of teaching and we have to suffer for it?"

"I've been here for five years already Harry," she shrugged nonchalantly. "Snape is just a part of Hogwarts like how our Defense professors never stay or how Professor Vector never answers questions until she's had at least three cups of coffee. You just get used to it and carry on."

"That's appalling. I was told Hogwarts was the best."

Her answering snort depressed Harry. "Notice how they say best in the United Kingdom. There's only one other school in the U.K. and it's a trade school. Hogwarts is the best "Light" magic curriculum. Beauxbatons is renowned for their acceptance of all sorts of magical creatures like Veela, Nymph, Vampire, and Werewolf. Durmstrang is known for their extended curriculum; they attend for eight years and cover a variety of "Dark" magic as well as your basics like Transfiguration and Charms.

"Could you imagine having Rituals and Martial Magic as classes?" Harry very nearly sighed at the prospect. "I heard they even offer Wards and Healing as electives. Even Necromancy…"

Harry looked over to Nanette with his head tilted. "Necromancy?" He asked.

"Well obviously not everyone can practice it; it's really rare and runs in the blood. But they have a Necromancy scholar on hand if anyone ever does show the talent. Merlin I heard whispers of a student practicing Illusion Magic. Two of the five Black Arts and they don't even hide it…"

This was the first time Nanette had really expressed her opinion on all things "Dark" and Harry found he wasn't too surprised. He was beginning to think that almost everybody in Ravenclaw held some kind of fascination – even if it was only curiosity – with what the Ministry of Magic dubbed illegal. Still it made Harry smile because he liked Nanette; she was brave like a Gryffindor and sly like a Slytherin. He really enjoyed her company and now he was eagerly anticipating the day they could enjoy each other's company without fear or trepidation.

"I want to go to Durmstrang." Harry sighed rather distantly, trying to picture himself in thick fur coats or conforming to their rigid martial structure.

"Your blood's too dirty. Purebloods only and even then entrance is strict."

Harry groaned in frustration and chucked a rock into the Black Lake. There was a loud _thunk_ and it took several minutes for the ripples to die out, then when the surface was calm as glass once more a giant tentacle burst forth and slapped the surface wildly. Harry grinned happily, maybe Hogwarts did have some areas in need of improvement but it certainly wasn't all bad.


	12. Chapter 12

**_Author's Note: Enjoy and let me know what you think!_**

 ** _Little Gem_**

The sight of the scarlet Hogwarts Express magnificently gleaming in the sunlight made Harry exceedingly depressed. All of his year mates were excitedly boarding and chatting happily about their summer holiday plans, most notably who would receive invitations to Gemma Farley and Grant Montague's wedding or who had captured Narcissa Malfoy's attention and received a formal offer into the Pureblood social calendar. Harry hated it, hated them all with their cheerful smiles and excited whispers. Not a single one of them worried about anything more substantial than wedding gifts while Harry curled up in the corner of a compartment with Lorelei, silently memorizing his flash cards on runic meanings.

He envied Mandy's carefree smiles and Padma's exotic plans of exploring India with her twin. They surrounded Harry in a smothering atmosphere of potent happiness and it left him feeling sick and rather hateful. Even Nanette was planning on celebrating her O.W.L.S completion in Paris. The worst part was Harry found a part of himself wishing they would notice his glaring or his furious scowls – maybe even his frantic last minute study session. But they were all blinded by gay naivety and smiled rather fondly at his flashcards.

 _Oh Harry,_ they sighed fondly. _At least sit by window and get some sun._

Harry couldn't help but wonder when the next time he would feel the sun on his skin would be. The protections he had prepared were for his cupboard. Outside that dark and spider ridden closet Harry would be defenseless. _I won't leave you,_ Lorelei had promised the night before, curled up under the soft sky blue comforter with him. _I'll protect you._

Now she was sprawled out on the seat, her massive front claws resting on Harry's thighs. His only comfort was now her affectionately nudging his cheek and hissing quietly in his ear. _The wizards leave you to rot but I will eat the first human to touch you._

He couldn't reply in the crowded compartment but Harry leaned into her and rubbed his cheek against her. Honestly he hadn't considered Lorelei as a measure of protection in all his scheming in the last few months. She was his friend, his constant companion, and his confidant – but Harry hadn't thought of asking her to be his protector. Actually he hadn't even considered how the Dursley's would even react to a four and a half foot and almost eighty pound Skye Dragon. He secretly hoped the shock would cause their hearts to fail.

But Harry wouldn't stop her from attacking to protect him. She was the only one in his life to care about what happened to him and it only made Harry love her more. Though he probably should probably find some time to develop an anti-venom so that no murder charges were brought up. The transparent lilac venom Lorelei produced was a powerful toxin that slowly worked its way through body attacking the heart and nervous system. That was if the victim was lucky enough to escape Lorelei's powerful jaws. None of the smaller animals had ever survived a bite and Harry had only just been able to convince his friend to let a massive stag go after she had bitten it so that Harry could observe the effects. The pull to help Harry fought against her pull to hunt and she eventually relented to stalking the deer with him to learn about what her venom could do.

It was dusk when the train pulled into the Kings Cross station. The slight sting of losing the house cup to Slytherin was fully forgotten by his housemates as they pushed and shoved their way in eagerness to see their families. Harry waited until the rush of students had dwindled before he made his way off the train, his trunk in his pocket and Lorelei trailing beside him.

Dudley was the first to realize the monitor at Harry's side. The obese boy went ashen and clutched Petunia's arm and Petunia shook Vernon from his purple faced anger. Vernon went as red as the Hogwarts Express but didn't unleash his wrath until they got to the car, far away from the public eye.

"That _thing_ is not coming." Harry's uncle spat viciously.

Lorelei hissed threateningly and the man took a step back. "That _thing_ is my familiar," Harry explained. "Her name is Lorelei and she has to come. If you try to harm her more of my kind will come and then what would the neighbors think?"

That was a lie, nobody would come if Vernon somehow managed to harm or forced Harry to leave Lorelei behind. Vernon didn't know that though and the vein his forehead throbbed violently while he considered what to do. "Vernon," Petunia grabbed her husband's arm worriedly. "Maybe we should just lock it up with him. I don't want any more _freaks_ around Dudders."

For a long moment Vernon glared at Lorelei and then it shifted to Harry with a malicious glint. "Fine. We'll see how long it takes to eat you."

Harry forced himself not to gulp at the implication. He had prepared himself to be locked up all summer, he could do this. Besides Lorelei could survive off the meat that Milly provided. It wouldn't be nearly as satisfying for her as an actual hunt in the Forbidden Forest but she wouldn't starve. That was the best Harry could do.

Getting Lorelei into the back of Vernon's new SUV turned into a struggle not to scratch the paint. None of the muggles helped, not that Harry had expected them to, but he struggled to support her weight so that she could climb in. Her claws left gouges in his hands but Harry shrugged off her worried hisses and made sure that her long tail was far out of the way before closing the hatch.

The ride was awkwardly and rigidly silent. Vernon glared at Harry through the rear view mirror the entire way back while Petunia fidgeted silently in the front seat. Dudley had some kind of new game called a Gameboy that held his attention. It was a massive brick of gray plastic and had only five buttons but Harry was grateful it kept Dudley from even looking at him.

Private Drive was unchanged and as awful as ever. The rows of boxy houses that all looked the same hadn't changed in the slightest and Harry sneered out the window. The identical manicured lawns, cars in the drive, the only variation was in the paint – they were cardboard boxes after the splendor of Hogwarts and the uniformity sickened him. It was all the same and they were all the same and they produced spawn that would be just the same. Harry had never felt so out of place.

He was the freak in their xenophobic little boxes and it was only fitting that he was smuggled back under the cover of darkness and shoved into the cupboard under the stairs like some dirty secret to be swept under the carpet. Vernon grabbed Harry by the scruff and tossed him in, when Lorelei darted in after him the cupboard door was slammed shut and the two were left sitting in the cramped darkness.

 _This is your nest?_ Lorelei asked after a minute of silence.

Harry didn't reply, he simply shifted his body around so that he was sitting cross legged and leaned back against the wall with his eyes squeezed shut. Lorelei shifted and draped across his lap with her head nudging his chin, the closest she could come to a hug. ' _I thought when I found Potter Manor I had found a home,'_ Harry confessed silently. ' _I never expected to come back here, I'm sorry I dragged you along. I should have left you in the Forest for the summer. '_

 _'I go where you go,'_ Lorelei insisted fiercely, ' _and I protect you from that which you can't fight yet.'_

 _'You deserve better.'_

 _'I am the familiar of a powerful young wizard that I get to grow and learn with. You are already outshine your peers and when you are grown you will be limitless. What is better than what I already have? '_

Despite the guilt Harry found himself smiling at Lorelei's words. _'And what if I become one of those dark wizards that Aurors hunt? If anyone found out I've been studying blood magic…'_ Harry trailed off not wanting to think about what would happen if he were caught. It was one of the reasons he had yet to write down anything he learned about using blood magic in Herbology in the leather book Professor Quirrell – or was it Voldemort – had given him at Yule.

 _'They have to get through me to take your soul.'_ There was no trepidation in her words only startlingly clear excitement.

The rest of the night was spent in hiding the wardstone under the floorboards and carving runes into the door frame. Barty Crouch Jr.'s protection runes were carved repetitively until the small dagger Harry had transfigured before he left Hogwarts began to cut into his already wounded hands. Eihwaz, Algiz, and Sowilo were carved one after the other – each fluidly connected to the others until they began to look less like runes and more like an intricate design much like Celtic knots. Harry continued until the blood from his hands smeared across his carvings, causing the ones that were smeared in blood to glow with bright golden light.

The effect of his blood left Harry slightly startled but Lorelei urged him on and his curiosity was too great to stop. So he began to go over the runes he had already carved and painted them with his blood as well. With each new rune coming to life under his fingertips Harry felt the magic in the cupboard grow and thicken. When all of the runes were glowing the light overhead burnt out and Harry was cocooned in a thick blanket of power.

Diligently Harry continued carving down the right side of the door frame with a slightly manic smile. The magic was heady it was a wonder that none of the muggles noticed. It permeated every breath he took and every saturated the air so strongly that it grew too warm for Harry to continue with his thick cotton shirt on. Finally when all the runes were carved and glowing they pulsed in time with Harry's erratic heartbeat. With one blinding flash the runes went dormant and Harry stared, absolutely fascinated.

 _'I think I found a new branch of blood magic.'_

 _'About time,'_ Lorelei replied sounding rather pleased. _'Plants are dreadfully boring.'_

With the help of a minor healing potion Harry's hands were back to their unblemished state and the two curled up on Harry's small cot and drifted to sleep, quietly hissing to each other. The next few days Harry remained locked in his cupboard with a horrified house elf as their only visitor. Milly had been hysterical when Harry first called her; the small elf had pleaded with Harry to let her take him back to Potter manor and had sobbed relentlessly about horrid muggles and how Harry belonged in the manor.

It took almost an hour to convince Milly that Harry needed to be at the Dursleys but finally she reluctantly stopped sobbing with the promise that she would be the one to make it survivable. Milly had been thrilled to know that she was needed so badly and had taken to bringing Harry food three times a day and supplying Lorelei with enough raw meat to stuff her fully for weeks. The helpful elf also helped Harry scour the Potter library for books on anything regarding blood or runes and was on the lookout for anything pertaining to a grimoire. When Harry had expressed his wish to study blood magic and the need to create a grimoire the elf had made it her personal duty to scour for any references on the subject.

While Milly scoured the library Harry dug out his eye-correcting and nutrient potions. If he would be reading in the dim light of the closet he'd need to be able to actually see properly. So one night when the Dursley's had locked the latch on the cupboard and gone out Harry carefully used the dropper to put three drops of the potion in each eye. It was a few minutes before Harry felt anything but he diligently kept his eyes closed. The burning and itching that followed was torturous but the note that came with the potion had warned him against touching his eyes during the process. So Harry used Lorelei to pin down his arms as he struggled not to squirm away to try to stop the maddening itching. Thankfully it only lasted a few minutes and when Harry opened his eyes his breath was taken away.

Even if it was only spiders and the underneath of the stairs it was the most beautiful sight Harry had ever seen. Everything was sharp and clear and Harry couldn't believe what he was seeing. For hours he laid there on his stomach studying Lorelei's textured scales, marveling at both the texture and how the colors beautifully blended – so many different shades of green ranging from lighter hues to deep, rich hues that faded into black. She had loved the attention and Harry declared that she was by far the prettiest reptile on the planet.

Stacks and stacks of books began appearing at odd hours, so much so that Milly had to magically expand the small cupboard a bit to accommodate a small bookshelf that tucked in neatly beside the shelf of cleaning supplies. The Wit-Sharpening potions were of great use to Harry who had begun learning more about Ancient Runes and their practical purposes but more often than not he was scouring the books with any references to blood. They hadn't been overtly helpful, mostly they had been reference materials for healers and taught Harry how blood flowed in the body and what happened when certain paths were obstructed.

At first Harry hadn't thought much on them and during the times between books Harry had taken to practicing Legillimency. It had been exceedingly difficult at first to latch onto a mind when you could not see the person, let alone make eye contact. But as the days passed Harry found himself resting against Lorelei and scanning Petunia's mind as she bustled about the house. At first she had 'dizzy spells' that she thought was from the heat of summer but actually it was Harry diving into her mind with a little too much force. With practice and almost a week of practice he learned how to dive in undetected and how to navigate the mind. Voldemort had been an excellent teacher but they had only covered how to deflect attacks and how to delve into the mind, Harry assumed that controlling the attacks were next but they had never gotten the chance to cover it.

Petunia's mind was an odd mixture of broken thoughts and flashes of pictures or memories. It had been disorienting at first but Harry eventually began to decipher the thoughts behind the inner monologue. There was near constant worry of Harry's freak status being uncovered and Harry learned that they had told the neighbors that they sent Harry to St. Brutus' Secure Center for Incurably Criminal Boys. She often found herself watching the cupboard door with suspicion over how Vernon would always find himself forgetting why he was stomping to the cupboard. She was almost positive that Harry was using magic but since no reprimand had come she bit her tongue. It rather shocked Harry how much of the magical world Petunia knew about.

She knew of the restriction on underage magic, she could recite the cure for acne, and knew _Severus Snape._ There was no mistaking that inky black stringy hair or that giant hooked nose and those cold obsidian eyes. Harry couldn't wrap his mind around Petunia knowing Snape. It was like trying to picture Draco Malfoy in the muggle world, too absurd to even imagine. _But she did._

The memories were strikingly clear and left Harry dumbfounded. Snape and a girl with flame red hair and _his_ green eyes playing in the park. The jealousy and the loathing almost made the memories unbearable but Harry was desperate to understand what the hell he was seeing. Lily Evans, the mother Harry never knew, had been friends with Snape before Hogwarts – before she even knew she was a witch. Petunia had watched as her sister showed Snape how she could fly, jumping off the swings and landing much too far away and much too softly – suspiciously like how Harry had accidently ended up on the school roof a few years ago.

But when Petunia realized she would never be able to do the things that Lily and Snape could do she turned hateful and fearful. It was such a textbook reaction that Harry found himself groaning. Petunia had resented and feared magic just like every other muggle known to history. Their reactions were _why_ the Statue of Secrecy existed and why the Purebloods loathed Muggleborns.

What Harry couldn't figure out is if Snape had been _friends_ with his mother then why was the man so vicious to Harry? Shouldn't the man be more tolerant of him because of their friendship? The whole thing was confusing and when Harry tried to fish for more details he felt as if he had been punched in the stomach by a dragon. Lily had been thirteen and was just about to start her third year at Hogwarts when she asked her parents to let Snape stay with them over holidays. Petunia had listened around the corner as Lily begged her parents to help her protect her _best friend_ from his _dad_.

Harry ripped out of Petunia's mind with such force that he heard a plate shatter on the tile in the kitchen. After that he stayed far away from Petunia's mind and returned to scouring books. He did _not_ want to think about Snape or his connection to Lily Evans and he _especially_ did not want to think on the beaten, swollen face Petunia had glimpsed. He _wanted_ to carry on hating the man for his horrid perversion of teaching and plotting his demise.

So he shoved Snape far, far away and dove into the books that Milly continued to bring. With a new resolve Harry continued learning about how the body worked and began to craft theories on how he could apply this newfound knowledge to blood magic. Harry began to wonder if it were possible to _feel_ the flow of blood in the body. In a healer point of view such a skill could be handy to determine if a patient had any blocks in their arteries. Really the possibilities were endless and when he expressed his curiosity Lorelei had encouraged him to try but was rather offended when he suggested using an animal Milly could bring.

Apparently this was highly offensive to her because as Harry's familiar it was her duty to help with all magic. He knew very little about familiars but he hadn't ever seen anyone practicing their magic on their pets. However arguing about how dangerous unknown blood magic could be didn't help at all. Lorelei was stubborn and refused to relent. So Harry finally gave in and began trying to map her body. The process was much slower than he'd have liked because he was so scared of hurting her but after a few days of slow and thorough research he began to be rather glad that his familiar was so stubborn.

The arduous task was flourishing under his careful and slow exploration. The network inside Lorelei was extensive and seemingly endless; it fascinated Harry how with just light touches he could _feel_ the pathways beneath her armored scale exterior. It was an absolutely magical journey and Harry traced her scales lightly, following the unobstructed paths in her body. Lorelei described the feeling as a light tingling that moved as Harry followed her blood.

However magical feeling the flow of her blood was it was equally terrifying because Harry could feel so much more than just the flow. There was something intrinsic there, just beyond his current reach, but somehow Harry just knew that if tried to touch it he would _harm_ Lorelei – not something Harry was even willing to contemplate.

By this time Harry had spent most of June in the cupboard with only a few bathroom breaks when both Vernon and Dudley were out and he was fairly sure it was a few days into July when Petunia opened the cupboard unscheduled. Vernon had already left for work and Dudley was out with his little gang. Harry had flinched back at the sudden burst of sunlight and it had taken several minutes for his eyes to adjust. "Yes?" He asked rather hesitantly.

"Get out." Petunia snapped at him as she opened the door further. "Go do something, walk around or go to the park."

"As _fun_ as that sounds," Harry drawled sarcastically, "I'd rather stay here where _Dudders_ can't chase me down with his _friends._ "

She glared at him but didn't say anything. For a long moment she just stood there, not moving and never relenting in her glare. Finally she asked, "Why did you come back?"

Harry blinked at her in confusion. "What?"

"You left last summer and didn't return. Why come back now? It's not as if you're wanted here." Harry knew he should be used to callous statements like this; he had received them all his life. But it still cut him to the core as easily as it had when he was a child and ignorantly seeking the affection of his relatives. You'd think after years of hearing how worthless and freaky he was and how he'd never be part of the family it would stop hurting…that eventually he'd build some sort of tolerance to it. It made no logical sense because Harry would rather jump off the astronomy tower than be part of the Dursley family. But it still hurt. Harry absolutely hated it but no matter how hard he tried he couldn't kill off the part of him that wanted somebody, _anybody_ , to care

With a heavy sigh Harry set his book down. "I wasn't planning on coming back here but I didn't want to risk getting in trouble with the law by running away."

"I always knew you rather stupid," she replied venomously. "It's not running away if you have permission to leave."

Harry stared at his aunt, rather dumbfounded. "You're – you're giving me permission to leave?"

Petunia sneered at his hopeful tone, "I know you're doing freakish things in here and I won't have it in my house. I am still your primary guardian and as such I'm giving you permission to spend your holidays elsewhere."

Harry almost jumped up and started dancing in celebration but he didn't want to risk the woman changing her mind. "I'll be gone in ten minutes."

"Make it five." With that his cupboard door was slammed shut in his face and Harry nearly squealed in excitement.

Frantically Harry began shoving his things in his trunk haphazardly, not caring for order or even if it would all fit. Lorelei was hissing happily about finally being free and Harry felt his giddiness begin to make his limbs shake. "Milly!" He called happily.

Instantly the elf was by his side, eyes red and surrounded by dark purple circles. "Master be callin' Milly."

"It's time to go to the Manor Milly," Harry smiled widely. "Would you take Lorelei and me and then return for my trunk?"

The tired little elf rocked back and forth in excitement, "Of course master!" With that she grabbed Harry's hand and laid her other on Lorelei. The next second the world went dark and when Harry opened his eyes he was in his bedroom.

"Oh Merlin, I almost forgot what it was like to have an actual bedroom!" Harry ran and jumped happily on to his bed before rolling over and grinning at the ceiling as the soft mattress embraced him.


	13. Chapter 13

**_Author's Note: Okay so this is the last chapter I plan on uploading for about a week because I have a wedding to attend back home and I leave tomorrow. I hope you all enjoy and let me know what you think okay?_**

 ** _Little Gem_**

One of the first things Harry did once he was properly washed, dressed, and fed was grab his invisibility cloak and seek out Portrait Hall. With Lorelei matching his strides beside him Harry pushed open the massive oak doors eagerly. It had been an entire year since Harry had last spoken to his family's portraits and while they never changed the boy he had been last summer was hardly recognizable anymore. He couldn't wait to tell them all about his first year at Hogwarts; his sorting, his tentative friends, his vile Potions master, his encounter with Voldemort, his research into Blood Magic, and most importantly his invisibility cloak.

The cloak was something that Harry was quite astonished by. He had looked up cloaks like his only to realize his cloak was nothing like other invisibility cloaks. Those cloaks were spelled or woven from Demiguise hair but over time they faded and turned opaque, usually they only lasted around five years. But according to Dumbledore Harry's cloak had belonged to his father while he was in Hogwarts, which should have been absolutely impossible. Not once had Harry found even a notion that permanent invisibility was possible.

Harry was hoping that Charlus or Dorea might now how or where James had gotten such a rare and impossible artifact. According to Harry's limited knowledge James had only been an Auror and hadn't had any dealings with ancient or powerful artifacts. His mother couldn't have procured it either because according to Flitwick she had gone on to gain her Charms mastery and then got pregnant and had decided to wait until Harry was born and out of infancy before taking a job. By the time that happened the war had reached its peak and she had been in the thick of it, being targeted by Voldemort.

It was quite a sight to watch as the heavy curtains pull back automatically to reveal enormous windows that flooded the room in sunlight. Slowly the portraits came alive and Harry watched in fascination as they roused themselves from slumber in confusion before seeing Harry. "Oh Harry dear," Dorea cooed happily, "I'm afraid Lorelei has grown more than you have."

"Oh Dory you know the boy won't grow till he's older," Charlus said rather gruffly but still managed to convey his humor. "He'll grow like a weed in a few years; he's a Potter after all."

Harry grinned fondly as the rest of the Potter family tried in vain to cram themselves into the closest portrait frames available. "I've missed you guys." It was true, Harry had missed their open familiarity greatly. After all of the trepidation and Boy-Who-Lived worship Harry was infinitely grateful to just feel relaxed.

"Well spit it out boy," Catherine Potter nee Malfoy snapped, though her sparkling eyes and twitching lips left her words quite dull. "We've only waited an entire year to find out which of us was right about your house."

Griselda laughed and nodded in agreement, "Not even a letter for a house elf to read us. Honestly even James had better manners."

Harry ducked his head but he couldn't keep the smile away. "Well I'm a proud new member of Ravenclaw, though the hat had a hard time deciding between Slytherin. Apparently I value knowledge more for its intrinsic value than how I can wield it or use it for my own gain."

"I knew it!" Dorea cried happily as she clapped her hands together. She sent a rather smug smirk to Charlus who had apparently been betting on Harry being a Slytherin.

"Why are there so few Potters in Hufflepuff?" Wilfred III whined loudly, causing Grayson to snort in derision.

"We don't typically breed duffers," he said rather pompously.

Wilfred III immediately rallied to the defense of the Badger house but Harry was saved from yet _another_ debate on who died more admirably by Charlus. "Where did you get that?"

Harry realized he was talking about the invisibility cloak in his arms but he was rather taken aback by seriousness in his grandfather's tone. The man looked extremely unhappy that Harry had it. "Um, I actually wanted to ask you about it." Harry confessed, watching the scowl form on Charlus' lips. Dorea too looked worried and when Harry looked around to find most of the familiar faces looking rather astonished he began to feel rather doubtful about his musings on the cloak. "Apparently it was my dad's before he died and Dumbledore passed it on to me over Yule. Do you know where –"

Charlus cut Harry off with an angry choking noise. "He- That man had no right. That cloak is an heirloom that's been passed down from father to son from the time of Ignotus Peverell. He had _no right_ to meddle in Potter affairs."

Rather dumbfounded, Harry found himself trying to wrap his mind around what Charlus was implying. Harry had studied the Potter family tree extensively last summer. The manor had an entire _room_ dedicated to the vast tree that Harry found rather extraordinary at the time. Ignotus Peverell had been the oldest of the Peverell brothers and had lived from 1214 to 1291. There was simply _no way_ that this cloak that Harry now had was the _same_ cloak that Ignotus had owned. That would make this cloak over seven hundred years old which was simply _not possible._ "This cloak can't have been passed down from Ignotus, grandfather. It's not possible!"

Once again Charlus snorted, his anger seeming to lose its ferocity just enough for Harry to feel more comfortable. "Don't you go mouthing off to me after only a year at Hogwarts boy; I could tell you things that would break your understanding of possible."

Harry could only gape at the man as Dorea finally stepped forward, every pair of eyes watching the interaction between Harry and Charlus seriously. "Charlus dear – it's not Harry's fault tradition was broken. Don't take your temper out on him."

With a heavy sigh Charlus relented, "I know. I'm sorry Harry it's just that cloak is so much more important than you understand. Traditions that have been in place for almost eight hundred years have been broken, important safeguards that protect our family _._ "

"Protect us from what?" Harry asked, desperate to uncover some dastardly Potter secret. All logic told him this cloak had to be fake, somehow replaced over and over again, and yet every Potter portrait present wore identical masks of worry and nervousness. Their seriousness chased away logic and left Harry feeling rather nervous; the cloak – while amazing – had now lost its innocuous appearance and he began to wonder if it might sprout a mouth and try to eat him.

Harry's mouth was now dry and he silently wondered if he should put the cloak down but before he could move Charlus spoke. "This is going to be a long conversation as every other Potter to own that cloak has been prepared for it all of their life. Sit down, Harry. I'm afraid we'll be here a while."

Harry sat down next to Lorelei who was watching what was happening with a heavy, half-lidded gaze that Harry had learned was when she was most alert and most dangerous. Apparently she felt as apprehensive as he did. Charlus stared at Harry long and hard, as if he couldn't quite believe what was happening or how to start. Finally he asked, "Have you ever heard anything about the Peverell brothers aside from that we descend from Ignotus?"

"No," Harry answered hesitantly. Was this something he should have studied? No one had ever mentioned anything about Ignotus so Harry had never really given the man much thought except the passing respect as the start of Harry's family line.

The portraits huddled together even closer, sitting down knee to knee like children about to have a story read to them. Each one looking as eager as a kid in Honeydukes and yet still as morbidly serious as ever. "The Peverell brothers are rather famous, Harry. It is a well-guarded Potter secret of our ancestry that Ignotus actually lived and that we descend from him because the Peverall brothers; Ignotus, Cadmus and Antioch have become a popular children's fable."

Harry waited with baited breath and the strange feeling that he was about to learn something very, very important. "It's said that the three brothers cheated Death by using magic to cross a raging river that should have killed them. The personification of Death appeared in anger and pretended to congratulate them by giving each of the brothers a gift of their choosing. Antioch chose an unbeatable wand that could perform magic no other wand could ever handle; hoping to become so powerful he could cheat Death once again.

"Cadmus chose a stone to resurrect the dead, hoping to humiliate Death even further. Ignotus chose Death's own cloak of invisibility, hoping to be able to hide himself from Death until he was ready. Antioch and Cadmus reached their early demise by attempting conquer Death even further than they already had but Ignotus lived a long and full life before he removed the cloak and Death welcomed him."

Chills rolled down Harry's spine as one part of his mind scoffed at the story while another part – the part that caused his hair to stand on end – believed that there was far more to this children's story almost instantly. "Ignotus, Antioch, and Cadmus were actually the Peverell brothers. They did not meet a personification of Death but they did craft powerful magical artifacts the likes of which have never before been duplicated.

"Ignotus weaved a cloak that has been passed down through our family for over seven hundred and fifty years. Never once has it torn or faded, it shows no signs of weather and it has never let a Killing Curse touch those it protected. Antioch crafted an unbeatable wand capable of magical feats that has left a bloody trail throughout the ages as it passes hands through death. The Deathstick, The Elder Wand, The Unbeatable Wand, all of these crop up throughout history leaving catastrophic damage in their wakes – all of these are the same wand, Antioch's wand. And Cadmus excavated and enchanted a rock that recalled the souls of the owner's deceased loved ones. It could not truly bring them back to life physically but had the power to bring forth their souls from the afterlife and tie them to physical realm as shades."

When Charlus finished speaking every hair on Harry's body was standing on end and he was covered in goosebumps. The portraits watched him carefully, studying him as Harry tried to absorb what he'd learned. "So the Peverell's were powerful wizards who created powerful magical artifacts that no one can copy. But why is that such a huge secret? Shouldn't we be proud to be descended from someone like Ignotus?"

A few of the portraits laughed but Harry felt it was rather mocking and bitter than humorous. "The three brothers were no ordinary wizards Harry," Charlus said with a strange tone that left the other portraits nodding solemnly. "There is a reason that the fable says they met Death's personification. It's because people believed them _to be_ Death's personification. Ignotus, Antioch, and Cadmus were the most powerful and renowned Necromancers of their time and continue to be to this day."

There it was. The bomb had been dropped and Harry felt his heart start to race as he tried to wrap his mind around the fact that he was descended from a family of Necromancers. Necromancy, it seemed to crop up in some aspect everywhere. In the wand shop, in the few books on Black Arts he had found, even Nanette had talked about it briefly. Her words seemed to mock him now. ' _It's really rare and it runs in the blood._ '

Harry looked up and into the faces of his family in understanding; he saw their faces in a new light. Each one of them, from Wilfred III the young Hufflepuff quidditch player who died performing a Wronski Feint to Grayson the rather cold and callous Slytherin who had been an avid muggle hunter. They were all bound by blood that could cost them their souls, bound by a secret that could demolish almost eight hundred years of ancestry in a single strike.

Suddenly the reality of the situation hit Harry like a bludger to the gut. If anyone found out about the blood that coursed through Harry's veins he would be subjected to the Kiss and with him, the Potter family and Necromancer blood would die with him. There were no other Potters alive to protect him or to teach him or to carry on the line if he died. All of these people that shared Harry's untamable hair, knobby knees, and bad eyesight also shared his legacy.

"Are – " Harry broke off when he found his voice thick with emotions he had no names for. "Were you all Necromancers?"

Slowly the portraits stood and Harry watched as several of them moved down numerous frames. His gaze slowly travelled back to those who remained. Charlus, Wilfred, Harold, Mary, Simon, Grayson, and several others Harry couldn't immediately place remained in the frame in front of Harry. They all stood side by side in a solidarity that left him breathless. Harry watched them watching him and it took several seconds for him to realize they were waiting for him, for his response. He was the outsider here. Harry hadn't been raised by a Potter, he had been raised in the muggle world and then shoved chaotically into the wizarding world and told that Black Arts cost you your soul.

 _They're waiting for me to reject them,_ Harry realized as his eyes stung.

"Amicti Sapietia…" Harry murmured quietly, reverently. "It makes so much sense now."

"Cloaked in wisdom," Charlus translated. "Our family motto since the cloak was passed on to Ignotus' son."

"When was I supposed to learn about this? I mean if Dumbledore hadn't messed it up, how was it supposed to happen?"

"On your thirteenth Samhain you would have been tested for the Necromantic ability as every Peverell has been since Ignotus. Should you have the ability you would have been gifted the cloak and the family grimoire to start your journey. If you do not have the ability then you would have received the cloak a few years later to safeguard until you could test your own children on their thirteenth Samhain." Grayson answered Harry with an approving expression.

Charlus nodded, "We discussed this when you left for Hogwarts. Since you were raised in the muggle world and are all that's left of the Potter line we decided we'd inform you of your heritage next summer but our plans were cut short."

"How do I find out if _I_ am a Necromancer? Since I know about it now can I take the test now?"

Every single portrait laughed long and loud at Harry's question. "Oh Harry, just because you broke one tradition doesn't mean we'll let you break them all." Charlus was laughing so hard he was having trouble standing upright. "You have to impatiently wait until you're thirteen like every Peverell before you for hundreds of years. It's a Potter ritual."

"Besides," Mary smiled fondly at Harry and looked like she wanted to wrap him in her arms, "There is still much you need to learn about magic before you're ready to go delving into a Black Art."

Harry's head tilted to the side and the smirk that curled his lips was rather proud. He couldn't wait to tell his family of all his accomplishments. "I've been studying Blood Magic since Yule."

"You've been what?" Charlus asked with wide blue eyes.

Portraits that had left now returned when they heard Harry's confession. "I have _so much_ to tell you all, grandfather."

This time it was Harry's turn to tell a story. He sat there for hours on the cold marble floor telling his ancestors all about his time at Hogwarts. The tentative friendships he made, the trepidation that everyone had around the Boy-Who-Lived, and the horrid Potions professor who was no better than the History of Magic Professor. Harry told them how he had grown terribly bored at Hogwarts and had made friends with the Defense professor who began to teach him Occlumency and Legillimency and how their afternoon chats quickly turned into scholarly debates and discussions on theoretical Dark Magic. He made sure to mention the Dark Arts books he found lying around the common room occasionally and how he had learned of the Black Arts, Blood Magic in particular fascinated him but how he hadn't started researching it until after Voldemort had revealed himself to Harry in the Forbidden Forest.

Harry told them all about how Voldemort had stolen the Philosopher's Stone and how he had told the Dark Lord he thought they were meant to be friends, including the wand connection between them. He ended with Dumbledore and how he'd been forced back to the muggles in fear of a horrifying tracking bracelet, accidentally discovering Blood Rune Magic and how he had been mapping out Lorelei before he had been allowed to leave.

When Harry finished the sun was setting and his ancestors looked comical in their shock. It was Catherine who broke the silent stupor as she whistled loudly. "My first year the most exciting thing to happen was a flobberworm biting my nose when I was supposed to meet Corvinus Gaunt II behind the broom shed." Harry nearly laughed when Grayson scowled darkly at his wife's forlorn sigh.

"You were better off without a Gaunt," Grayson sneered. "They are notoriously unstable."

"Oh don't worry darling," Catherine cooed maliciously, "I love you even if you can't speak Parseltongue."

Grayson's scowl became even more furious but Harry was listening with rapt attention. Gaunt's spoke Parseltongue? The trait descended from Salazar Slytherin so did that mean Gaunts were descended from Slytherin?

Harry didn't have time to ponder the Gaunts possible connection as Charlus redirected the conversation. "Albus Dumbledore has finally gone round the bend then, eh? Letting possessed men in the castle. The world has gone to shit. I can't say I'm surprised but Harry that means you have to be even more careful. You are the last Potter, the last traceable Peverell left."

"I've been careful," Harry assured the portraits. "I haven't written anything down and I haven't told anyone but Lorelei."

"Forget the blood magic boy," Charlus advised seriously. "And forget Voldemort. There's a reason the last two generations of Potter's fought against the man. Wherever he goes, death follows."

Harry couldn't stop his spine from straightening rigidly. Voldemort was his _friend_ , how could he stay away? They were fated – brother wands and rebounded Killing Curses – Harry and Voldemort, tied together. Beyond that Harry didn't _want_ to stay away from Voldemort. The man had been the most fascinating part of Hogwarts – of the magical world really – and now that he was gone everything was tainted by his absence. "Funny," Harry replied coolly, "coming from Necromancers."

"Dammit boy this is no time for snarky remarks. That _thing_ isn't even human anymore. You-Know-Who defied laws of magic that should never have been touched. He nearly destroyed our _world._ "

Dorea, Wilfred, even Grayson stayed completely quiet as Charlus ranted and none of them spoke up to contradict him after he was done. Dorea seemed to agree and the others didn't seem to care at all, Voldemort was after their time. Harry didn't know what he expected, maybe for Necromancers to have a lesser regard for laws considering who they were, but he hadn't expected for the tight ball of scorching anger to appear in his chest.

"He is not a _thing,_ " Harry growled back. "Voldemort is a radical, no doubt about that, and I have no idea if he's trying to burn the world or save it – there are arguments for both. But what I do know is what I have learned firsthand in just a year in the magical world and that is that the magical world is content in its stagnation. They have not changed nor evolved in hundreds of years and its _pathetic._ The laws you all adhere to need to be pushed and broken and explored."

With a furious shake of his arm Harry held up the invisibility cloak and shook it. "This is proof of how pathetic you all are. This cloak has been around for over seven hundred years and not one of you has managed to learn how Ignotus did it?"

Silence was deafening as Harry tried desperately to control his anger enough to speak again. "Ignotus pushed against your stupid laws and yet you condemn another for doing the same. You were all weak and pathetic and if I'm a Necromancer I will be greater than all of you. I will not let your narrow-mindedness or your worries over the magical world's continuance stop me.

"As far as I'm concerned if the world is content in mediocracy then it deserves to burn."

With that Harry turned on his heel and marched out of the room with Lorelei by his side. He'd be damned, even if they were his blood, if he would listen to their ignorant preaching. The world may scream that Voldemort was heinous and had he not actually spoken to Voldemort he might have believed them, but he had. Harry had spent the better part of four months interacting with Quirrell and now that Harry looked back, all those pauses in conversation and inner monologues made sense.

Voldemort had been talking to him through Quirrell. Harry knew it, he couldn't prove it but he could feel it in his gut. Maybe his definition of heinous was different that others – he considered killing off branches of magic and child abuse heinous not the loss of ignorant sheep that got in the way of the pursuit of knowledge.

Disappointment lodged in his chest like a heavy boulder. He had expected better from his family. The whole buildup of their Peverell line being the wisest – the best even, seemed to make the disillusionment all the more painful. In the end, even in Potter Manor, Harry felt like an outsider.

Over the next few days Harry pushed away all the anger, disappointment, and all the otherwise negative emotions and began to resurrect his plan from months ago. He owled the _Daily Prophet_ and put an ad in the Jobs section; just a small anonymous blurb about a soon to be second year student needing a tutor for History of Magic and Potions. Harry mentioned room could be provided if necessary and that wages were negotiable. After that Harry opened up a P.O. Box so that all letter sent to the paper in inquiry would be redirected to that post box and then forwarded on to Harry.

In the meantime, Harry had Jordey replace all of the books he had borrowed from the Potter Library and began working on his summer homework. McGonagall wanted three feet on animate to inanimate transfigurations which Harry found exceedingly dull. He had already manage to master turning Lorelei's claws into flippers and his progress in mapping out her structure was helping guide him in the arduous task of turning her into an object. Honestly, mice were so much easier to work with.

Professor Flitwick had asked for four feet on how the Disarming and Freezing Charms could be used in duels and how the General Counter-Spell was important to complete this basic repertoire for any novice dueler. Charms were a great deal more interesting to Harry but he found the idea of dueling distasteful and as such, the essay was even more of a struggle than Transfiguration.

On the third day since Harry posted his ad in the _Daily Prophet_ he decided to knock out both his Herbology and Astronomy essays. That had taken up most of the morning and Harry was just sitting down for a late lunch when a barn owl arrived and Jordey – who was always on owl watch – brought in four different letters. One familiar Hogwarts letter and three others all addressed to the Prophet in regards to the ad.

Deciding he couldn't live another moment without knowing his W.O.M.B.A.T scores Harry tore open his Hogwarts letter first.

 _Dear Mr. Potter,  
Please be reminded that you must board the Hogwarts Express as usual from King's Cross Platform 9 ¾ for prompt departure on September the first, at eleven o'clock in the morning. _

_We look forward to receiving you at Hogwarts next term, Draco Dormiens Nunquam Tittilandus._

 _Minerva McGonagall  
Transfiguration Mistress  
Deputy Headmistress_

Quickly Harry tossed away the cover letter and even the second page filled with school supplies he'd need to get from Diagon Alley. Though he'd hold off on going until it was much closer to term, last year had been much too easy and Harry was hoping if he didn't open a single text book beforehand the classes would be more challenging. The next page held his testing scores.

 _Wizards' Ordinary Magic and Basic Aptitude Test Results:_

 _Charms- Outstanding_  
 _Transfiguration: Outstanding_  
 _Herbology: Outstanding_  
 _Potions: Acceptable_  
 _Astronomy: Outstanding_  
 _Defense Against the Dark Arts: Exceeds Expectations_

For a minute Harry wanted to dance in celebration, he had passed Potions! Snape could pout all he wanted but even if he made a mistake Harry had passed and that meant he could continue as he was and no one could hassle him. Dumbledore could suck on his lemon drops, Snape could scowl, Binns could stay dead…none of them mattered.

With a happy smile Harry reached for the other letters and tore open the one on top. It wasn't a very expensive sheet like Hogwarts used but the writing was elegant enough – obviously male – and the whole thing was short and to the point.

Leander Dunston was a twenty year old muggleborn who had no official Masteries yet. He was working on his Transfiguration Mastery and he was attending Muggle college, majoring in Physics. Though Leander had no official experience in tutoring Harry found himself liking the older just because he was also going to Muggle school. It was nice to see someone else was planning to explore and push past boundaries. However Leander did have a fault, the boy had not passed his Potions O.W.L. As sad as it was to pass up such a rarity Harry needed someone who had preferably passed their N.E.W.T. but at least passed their O.W.L.

The next application was from Remus Lupin who was a thirty-one year old half-blood with Masteries in both History of Magic and Defense Against the Dark Arts, and he had passed his Potions N.E.W.T. The man had an extensive work history and references sheet that showed he had tutored several students in Defense, History, and Potions. All in all his application was impressive, because really who had time to get two Masteries before they were thirty? However at the bottom, underneath the man's signature, was a large stamp that read: _Registered Werewolf._

Not that Harry was prejudiced or anything but it did explain why the man had so much time to spend academically. Almost all creatures with sentience were shunned from society but Werewolves most of all. Still, if he was the best candidate then maybe they could arrange something to make it work.

The last letter was written in dark purple ink on thick, creamy parchment far lighter than the yellowed Hogwarts standard. The letters were curled femininely and the letter itself smelled faintly of roses. Harry smiled until he read the first line.

 _Mr. Potter,_

Somehow this person knew who Harry was. Instead of feeling scared as he probably should Harry found himself excited and continued reading.

 _My name is Cassiopeia Black and I am your great aunt, your grandmother Dorea's sister. I have recently returned to England and have heard a great many things about you._ _Through my extensive network I have heard all about your casual dismissal of both Potions and History of Magic. According to one of my sources I believe you will also be quitting Defense Against the Dark Arts as well this year._

 _As my great nephew – and a favor owed to Dorea – if you cannot find a suitable tutor or would like my company either way I will be residing in England until October first. Should you be interested I have been a Hit Witch, I have Masteries in Defense, Ancient Runes and Potions, and I have tutored three official Black family members._

 _Magic Bless You,  
Cassiopeia Black_

Harry's eyes were wide by the end of the letter. Dorea had a sister who was alive? Harry had an actual blood relative alive and well other than the muggles. Immediately both Dunston and Lupin's letters were tossed in the garbage. Cassiopeia was instantly his number one choice, both because of her exceedingly clever networking skills and her blood connection. She had been able to put together who he was with such confidence that she addressed him by name.

The woman was fascinating and Harry desperately wanted to meet her.

It wasn't until the next day that Harry penned his responses. He wrote he replies and melted the wax to seal the envelopes before sliding down the banister of the stairs to get to the dining room. Milly had a delicious stack of pancakes waiting for him and Lorelei was relaxing by the fire on a rug. Harry pulled out _The Big Black Book of the Best Bewitchments_ and read while he ate.

Harry was quite sure Mandy would have a field day over this book. It had been haphazardly hidden behind the set of Defensive Spells volumes 1-10. Any book hidden in a library was worth a flip through and Harry found it rather interesting as there was actually an in depth section on spelling non-tangible things. Words…ideas… the list went on and on, and they could all be jinxed, hexed, or cursed. The idea of cursing a word fascinated Harry and the complex theory behind it held his attention so completely that Harry nearly jumped out of his seat when the manor _shook._

Almost instantly Milly and Jordey were by Harry's side, Jordey with a metal pasta strainer on his head like a helmet and Milly looking terrified. "What was that?" Harry asked the two as Lorelei hissed.

Before either elf could reply the manor gave a violent shudder and a horrible screeching rang out. It was so loud that Harry had to cover his ears as he ducked to avoid the chandelier falling on the table. Then as quickly as it had happened the manor went completely still and silent.

"What just happened?" Harry asked Jordey.

"Someone be attacking the manor Master," Harry's heart lurched in fear. "What should we elves be doing?"

"Should Milly be taking Master somewhere?"

Harry pondered his options quickly. He could have Milly apparate him and Lorelei out and they would be completely safe. However if he did then Harry would never know _who_ attacked the manor or why. Would he really let some unknown threat wander the earth – allow himself to be chased out of his own manor by a nameless, faceless person? "No Milly," Harry said resolutely. "I want you and Jordey to hide and be ready to leave."

No experience in dueling, not able to legally use magic outside of Hogwarts, and clueless as to who his attacker was – Harry knew he was incredibly outmatched. Still he grabbed his wand and motioned for Lorelei to follow. He was going to try and sneak up on whoever it was, find out whatever he could, and then take his elves and get out. He had a plan.

 _Oh Merlin, please don't be Dumbledore._ Harry pleaded mentally _. Please don't be the Aurors._

Harry silently slipped out of the dining room and with his heart racing a mile a minute he checked his corners as he had seen muggle television shows do.

 _'I can smell another familiar,'_ Lorelei hissed softly. _'They are near the entrance hall.'_

Lorelei led the petrified Harry down a few halls and then stopped so abruptly Harry nearly tripped over her. The sound of familiar hissing kept him from scowling down at his familiar.

 _'I smell them Master,'_ came a female voice. Her words were elongated and fluid in a way that English could never be. _'Should I find them?'_

Harry's mind nearly exploded in shock when a male voice answered, in Parseltongue. _'No Nagini, the boy will come to me.'_

Without hesitating Harry threw himself around the corner and watched as an absolutely massive snake reared back in surprise. There beside her was the oddest looking man Harry had ever seen. Pale, flawless skin was stretched just a bit too tight over high cheekbones. There was not a wrinkle, blemish, or imperfection – no the skin was smooth as an infant's which contrasted too sharply with his adult features. The effect was unsettling, making the man seem timeless and outside of physical age altogether.

He stood tall, towering over Harry, with bright crimson eyes and coal black hair. "Voldemort," Harry whispered in surprise.

"Your wards were terribly lacking."


End file.
